Boy
by RealmOfPossibility
Summary: Post 3x11 (contains spoilers) Regina meets Roland as she struggles against the bleak darkness threatening to engulf her. *Now complete
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This started out as a one-shot and became something quite a bit longer.**

**I suppose this could be considered Pre-Outlaw Queen-it is also my first attempt at writing Regina.**

**Thanks for reading :)**

**Boy**

The fire licked gently at the air. The thick logs sitting therein crackled and popped, sending glowing, golden embers shooting sparks into the early evening. Wispy plumes of smoke rose higher and higher, spinning in a way that oddly reminded her of the billowing cloud of her curse.

Her glorious curse.

The curse that was no more.

She sat alone by the campfire, as was known to be her preference. And most likely the preference of those around her.

"_Regina, it's not safe for you here. Those that bear a grudge against you won't be slow in coming. You remember the mob in Storybrooke after the curse was broken, don't you?"_

She supposed she should be grateful that Snow had looked out for her. She had never cared for her own well-being less than she did right now, which was an astounding feat considering how she'd spent decades revolved around herself, wreaking havoc in her own name. But, she still oscillated so frequently between wanting Snow out of her sight forever and secretly craving the nearness of the familiar.

But, Snow and Charming were gone. Gone to investigate the new threats creeping like shadows throughout the land.

"_I've asked Mulan to guard you. She has promised that no harm will come to you. We will return soon."_

Despite the indifferent glances from the decidedly _un_merry men and their leader and the narrow-eyed glares the woman-warrior threw her way, it must have been a hell of a friendship for Mulan to acquiesce to Snow's request for protection. Albeit a most reluctant agreement.

But, why would _she_ possibly need protection? She had magic for that. She could practically conjure the flames of hell to surround her if she wished. She could barricade herself in her castle, its black walls impenetrable and forbidding. She could command the greatest of fears to descend upon the land and commit unspeakable acts to ensure her survival. Wasn't that what she'd been doing all these years?

And, owing to Rumplestiltskin's demise, she was now the most powerful magical being in the land.

She blinked at that.

She had stated, rather outlandishly in Neverland, that he would not die unless she was the one who laid the killing blow. Yet, she had stood there frozen with the rest of them as he had thrust the blade hard and vanished, along with his father.

He had been one of few constants in her life. Concurrently the bane of her life and her partner in crime-after-crime. Teasing her further into his dark world until she couldn't imagine a life without the Dark One's hand in whatever she created.

She deduced that if she was starting the process of grieving, she would still be stuck in Denial. One could indeed be convinced that the truth was fiction if not forced to endure Belle's whispered mumblings and stricken sobs.

Yet another advantage of sharing the campfire with nothing but the insects and the silence.

She shifted uncomfortably from her stiff position on the ground. The dress to which she had been returned both pushed and sucked in places that at one time had been right, but now felt so wrong.

In fact, she felt more than a little ridiculous.

The colour still felt safe. Black was always something she could wrap herself in, trap the world firmly on the outside. The style and cut had been just one more tool of power and intimidation and seduction at her disposal. But, after nearly thirty years of business suits and stylish long coats, this dress felt alien and foreign against her skin, the skirt cumbersome and restrictive to her movements and the enormous collar something akin to a lizard she had once seen on the Discovery Channel.

Her lip twitched in a self-deprecating almost-smile.

A reptile. How appropriate.

Still, her sudden abhorrence of the dress didn't make her less than what she was. Didn't deaden the inner agony raging within.

And that was the only thing raging. If, at some point, she moved past Denial, Anger would follow.

But, strangely, incomprehensively, there was none.

No anger.

None.

Nothing but screaming pain at what she'd done even if, for once, she'd done the right thing for the right reason.

If a passer-by were to happen upon the scene right at this moment, they would see nothing but a woman sitting alone, her face a blank mask.

She couldn't control the way her dress constricted her in a way that left her in desperate need of oxygen for more than one reason. She couldn't control the looks and responses of her reluctant companions that _the Evil Queen _was among them. She couldn't control the way her feelings made a vice of her chest, no matter how hard she tried to push them down.

But, her face.

She could still stretch and force that into an unemotional mask. Turn her into an indifferent observer.

Even if what lay underneath it was the kind of hopeless heartache that none of them could ever imagine on someone like her.

It was the heartache that dictated her thoughts. It was the heartache which had begun it all so long ago. And that heartache had turned to vengeance. And hatred.

But, who was there to hate now? There was no little girl to spill her secrets. No irritating blonde woman to steal her son. Not even a nasty little imp to draw her into his web.

No, there was no one left to hate.

But, she still wanted to destroy something. Anything.

Everything.

For while she was satisfied to hide the hurt digging under her skin, she wanted some proof. Some physical manifestation that this anguish was real. That what had happened had happened and was tearing her world apart.

That was her price though, wasn't it? And she'd chosen to pay it.

"_I'm a villain."_

"_No, you're not. You're my mom."_

She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat and that great choking lump of raw emotion that was pummelling her insides. Her eyelids lowered to further cover her deadened eyes. They burned and prickled because of the smoke floating from the fire.

Or perhaps for another reason…

She whispered his name in her mind. Remembered his face as she had turned to face the sky, hands raised to kill Pan's curse and to command her magic to give her son and Emma Swan a future that would never be more out of reach for her than at that moment.

_My gift to you._

_A good life._

She couldn't remember turning around to watch the yellow Bug as it bounced along the empty road. Couldn't remember the moment when Henry had turned away, no longer able to see what had once been.

She rather thought her mind had shut down at that point, as she'd stood there amongst the purple haze.

There were some things that the heart just couldn't suffer.

She wondered how long she would be able to sit here like this before she keeled over. She guessed that right then, if some unforseen danger had suddenly appeared before her, her survival instincts would kick in and she would defend herself. She would struggle with the jaws of death and win in order to keep breathing. Keep living.

But, sitting here, she found she couldn't make a move of her own. It was just as she had thought after all. What would she be without her hate and anger?

At first, the slight rustle of leaves crunching underfoot didn't register. She was unaware of the lengthening shadow of the one who approached. Creeped cautiously, one might have said. When she finally saw the figure out of the corner of her tired eyes, she made no move to acknowledge it. She felt no threat and wished for no company. Whoever was present would have to be content with silence.

It was the irritating clicking that finally drew her eyes away from the fire and forced her to turn her head.

She was vaguely aware of the rise and fall of her chest and the expelling of air in a sigh. She heard the sound of the swallow in her throat.

He was holding wooden blocks. Piling them on top of each other in a shape that she thought might have been a wall. And whispering something to himself, as children seemed to do when caught up in their own imagination.

She blinked, her eyes opening just a little wider in the approaching night.

He reached to the ground on the side she couldn't see and brought forth a small figure, which also seemed to be made of wood. He bounced it along the ground, up and down, up and down, continuing to whisper to himself until she suddenly realised she could understand that it was just one word.

"_Giddy-up. Giddy-up. Giddy-up."_

Her breath seemed to stick in her throat as she wordlessly observed his game.

The wooden horse galloped along the ground, guided by his small hand. Approaching the carefully constructed wall, it leapt into the air in a clean jump and landed on the other side.

It was then that she realised he was surreptitiously sneaking glances at her. As the horse rounded to approach the wall again. As he lifted a hand to replace a block he had bumped off with his foot. As he made clip-clopping noises with his tongue.

She stared at the horse and not at his face. Waited for something.

Eventually, his game grew more violent. He began kicking the horse's legs against the wall, causing it to crumble bit by bit. And continued to glance her way.

She grew tired of watching and turned back to the fire. Perhaps he would leave if she ignored him for long enough.

Now, the wall was in ruins and he was standing up, kicking at the blocks. Sometimes connecting, sometimes missing completely.

Until his final violent kick sent the blocks flying. A few disappeared into the fire, never to return.

And one, just one, rolled and rolled, before hitting her left foot where her legs were curled under her.

She stared down at it momentarily. Reached down automatically to pick it up. Its dull roughness felt more real to her than anything had in days. She rubbed her finger over it and clenched it in her fist.

And then he was standing before her. His hand reaching out for her to return it to him. She raised her eyes to look into his, trying not to see how sweetly young he looked or how his hair sprouted somewhat wildly in a way that Henry's used to. She lifted her arm, which unsurprisingly felt like deadweight and offered him the block.

His hand took it at the same time his mouth opened.

"Hello," he whispered. He seemed to know that she barely wanted to hear the breath of his voice.

She stared, the pause stretching long and uncomfortable, but neither party moving.

"Hello," she whispered eventually, her own voice sounding foreign coming from her lips.

His eyes ran over her face. She licked her lips at the sudden scrutiny.

"I'm Roland. Are you sad?"

As natural as that. An introduction and then a bold, uninvited step into her world. Yes, if it had been an imminent threat, she would have raged back at it, flung it from her to the farthest corners of the camp. But, without the threat…

She opened her mouth.

"I'm Regina." That seemed too simple for all she'd been and now was. His question was unacknowledged. The word 'sad' was somehow pitiful when placed alongside the undiminished cries erupting inside her.

He stared at her a moment longer and then leaned forward, reaching out with his fingers. She was frozen as he drew closer. He rubbed his fingers along her cheek and as a breeze blew across her face, the place he had touched felt suddenly cool.

And damp.

The tear had escaped without her realising. She blinked back any others which sought to escape. His eyes told her that he knew though, what she was hiding. How could a child understand what adults couldn't see?

"Roland? Where are you my boy?"

His hand snapped back and his eyes widened as he looked furtively behind himself. He turned back to her.

"I'm not supposed to talk to you."

And with that, he turned and scampered away, stopping to grab his lessened collection of blocks. He gathered them in his arms and ran off toward the voice calling him.

She stared into the darkness after him, the skin of her cheek now slightly stiff from the drying tear. Her eyes lowered to the ground and her face turned more fully to the space he had left behind.

The horse lay on its side, having escaped the flames.

She didn't have any idea why she moved. She moved like an old woman, slowly and painfully, and took the few steps before reaching down to pick up the horse. She retreated back to her former position and sat, turning the horse over in her hands. She imagined it was brown, with a beautiful strip of white down its long nose.

Outside of her own mind, it was the only tangible thing she had to remind her of anything that came before.

That, and a formidable black dress.

Her gaze drifted back to the dying fire. She absently turned the wooden figure over and over in her hands.

She fell, once again, into her mind. Whispered his name into her thoughts again, though this time his face came to her, smile beaming as it once had before everything fell apart.

She didn't notice the figure behind the tree, his eyes bright and his face curious.

Right now, there was only drowning.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I don't think I've ever let a one-shot stay a one-shot. Anyway, it was cathartic. I decided to briefly bring in the Outlaw in Outlaw-Queen for this chapter. I have no idea where I'm going or how many more chapters there will be. What a great incentive to read…**

**Thanks though.**

Chapter 2

She wandered like a ghost in the misty morning. The air was damp and chilly, sounds muffled by the density of the gloomy weather. She could barely hear her own footsteps treading on the soggy grass as she rounded the camp for the…well, she didn't even know how many times she'd done it now.

She always woke well before dawn, feeling completely unrested. Her eyes opened and she felt like she was choking with the memory of dreams. Dreams of her son. Dreams of the small face staring out the back of an old, yellow car until he couldn't remember what he had been looking at. Couldn't remember that his mother had let him go to save him. Could no longer see the anguish she was trying so desperately to hide from him.

She supposed she shouldn't be surprised.

She hadn't had a pleasant dream in…decades.

Decades.

Decades.

She ran a finger across the rough brown bark of a tree, staring vacantly into the woods in front of her.

Snow and Charming had not yet returned, nor had they sent back any kind of message, either to indicate when they would return or to warn this group of bedraggled 'campers' of what new menace they had uncovered.

She guessed at some point they would call upon her for help with whatever it was.

For her magic.

They had needed it in Neverland, time and again. Make a sail. Create an eclipse. She'd even saved Rumplestiltskin's hide. And they'd needed her in Storybrooke. Needed her to undo everything she'd ever done. But everything, both the heroic and the ill-advised, had been for one reason.

And now she had no reason. She truly had no reason to find the good within. No reason not to be engulfed in the darkness, to let it tear at her insides until she was consumed.

But, even the darkness seemed to have no allure anymore. There was a hollowness that had nothing to fill it. It was in her eyes. In the thin, pressed line of her lips. In her chest. Even the few words she spoke were hollow, spat from her mouth with a sneer, but with no real venom.

The appearance of anger and hatred in place of actual feeling.

At least she was out of that wretched dress. Though the simple, drab peasant-like get-up she'd been given was completely beneath her, there was really nothing she could do about it. Neither her former attire as the Queen nor her clothing as the Mayor felt like it belonged to her now. And her hair, now as long as it ever was, hung heavy down her back and she wanted nothing more than to take up a rusty knife and saw off great handfuls and cast it into the fire.

Perhaps she would.

She exhaled, and a great cloud of steam was expelled from her mouth. She watched it dissipate and paused in her wanderings.

She may have been wrapped inside her own misery, but she could still tell when she was being watched. Could still become aware of another's presence.

She knew who it was immediately. Stealth had no meaning to him yet.

She tightened her fingers around the carved wooden horse which now seemed a permanent fixture in her hand. She didn't feel inclined to give it back. It had developed some kind of strange ability to ground her. A talisman against…well, she didn't know what it was protecting her from, but it felt like a tiny spark of life in her hands. She didn't want to let it go.

Right now, it was all she had.

She had been aware of his presence numerous times since their encounter by the fire. As she sat eating her meals alone. As she aimlessly weaved her way between the tents. As she attempted to cut off the few forced interactions with those around her. He hadn't tried to make any contact with her again, nor did she really want him to. A child was the last thing she needed to be bothered with right now. She felt no great anger towards the boy. Just…irritated. Yes, he was a minor irritation.

"Hello."

His voice was soft and musical. She hadn't heard it in his whisper by the fire. She felt a sudden urge to heave a sigh and roll her eyes, but she fought against it. She resumed her slow circle between the trees and around the camp.

"Hello Regina." This time, he didn't even try to hide that he was scampering after her. He knew she knew he was there.

It was oddly amusing that in another place and time, she would have been shocked, utterly outraged at his blatant familiarity in using her name. But, here in the cold, bleak landscape, she was simply surprised that he had remembered it at all. Surprised and…something else she couldn't put a name to.

She turned towards the voice and saw him standing half-hidden behind a tree. She was almost disgusted with herself. She had always easily sent almost everyone away from her in terror, or at least thoroughly cowed. One would think her lack of reaction would be enough here.

She'd grown soft.

Or simply lost the energy to care about the fight.

_Or he changed you._

She slammed the door on the thought of Henry before it could fully take hold. It implied that she should be any different than she was.

Even though she didn't think she knew what that was anymore.

She grew impatient as he merely stood and watched her. This was not her son. She had not asked for him to follow her. Had not desired his presence.

Suddenly tired of the whole thing and her own strange feelings, she lifted her arm and held out the wooden horse.

"Is this what you want? Come and take it, boy." She needed to be rid of it anyway. She waved her hand about when he made no move to come forward. Agitated, she flung it towards him. It landed soundlessly a few feet from where he stood.

He looked down at where his horse lay, then raised his eyes to her again. He moved out from behind the tree and reached down to pick it up. He tipped his head slightly to the side and regarded her thoughtfully.

"Roland. Not 'boy'." He frowned. "Roland."

Now, she did sigh and waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal. Felt the stirrings of old anger in her belly.

"Very well, Roland. Go back to your mother. I have neither the energy nor inclination to entertain small children."

He stared back at her steadily.

"Mother's gone."

She knew she shouldn't think about what that meant. She didn't _want_ to think about what that meant. So many things were _gone_. She had no wish to take on this boy's losses as well as her own.

She stepped away.

"Goodbye Roland."

She stepped again.

"Wait!"

He stumbled forward and she noticed for the first time that he had one hand hidden behind his back. He clutched the horse in his other hand, holding it out to her. He ran around her, blocking her exit. He stood barely a few feet away, still offering her the toy.

"You keep it," he insisted. "And…" He drew his hand out from behind his back and now his two hands were held up to her.

She straightened her back, staring between the wooden horse and the posy of wildflowers he brandished. She wanted to sneer, to rip the flowers to shreds, to fling that damn horse as far away as her strength would allow.

She clenched her teeth instead.

"What is that?" Did her voice sound strangled?

"It's a present." His eyes lit up and he shook his hand a little, encouraging her to take it.

She felt something sag inside her.

"Why would I need a present?" she asked, before she could stop herself. She didn't want to think about the last gift she had received, wrapped in a warm, blue blanket and staring at her with wide, newborn eyes.

He stepped closer and, as he had the other night, reached toward her. She felt his small hand touch hers, lift it up and turn it over so it was palm up and lay the flowers there, causing her fingers to curl instinctively around them. He reached again and she felt the wood pressed into her other hand.

"Because you're sad," he said matter-of-factly and stepped back.

She stood helplessly for a moment, her hands full of gifts. She felt her eyes burn.

"Roland?"

They both spun in the direction of the voice and she immediately felt relieved, even as her eyes narrowed and her face drew back into its old mask. This was better. The familiarity of hostility.

Who better to spar with than the leader of this motley group?

He glanced down at her hands, taking in the flowers, the horse.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to say something combative, something clever and bitter, something which would cause them all to leave her alone.

But, he wasn't looking at her.

"Talking to Regina," Roland mumbled in reply, taking slow, small steps towards his father. He peered up.

"Back to the fire," the man said, ruffling his hair. "Breakfast."

Roland scampered off, weaving between the trees without a backward glance.

Leaving the two of them.

She held his eyes levelly. She didn't know what he'd heard about her, this _Robin Hood_, but she wasn't going to be stared down by some boorish ruffian. Some outlaw. In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but be aware that her attempts to be austere and intimidating were somewhat lessened by the bunch of small white flowers she was now clenching with almost white knuckles.

Finally, he spoke.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to be around my son."

She lifted her chin and continued to meet his gaze for a long moment, before casting her eyes down indifferently. Being threatened or insulted was nothing new for her and she'd long learned to let such words roll off her.

"Then perhaps you should tell him not to seek me out."

At that, she brushed past him, back ramrod straight, and made for the trees. She looked neither left nor right.

She couldn't help but feel his eyes on her as she strode away.

She walked and walked until the sun had won the struggle to emerge in the sky and she felt warmed enough that a thin trickle of sweat ran down her neck. She stopped at a tree and turned, checking that she was finally alone. She looked down at the flowers still tightly held in her hand. They were nothing more than wilted weeds, really. She cast her eyes to her other hand and that worn wooden horse.

It had been foolish to take them. Foolish to even open her mouth and speak to the boy in the first place. She didn't need this…these…feelings. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to conjure back that dark emptiness.

But, her only thought right then was that she should have said thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Thanks for reading. I am quite enjoying writing this. It's a bit depressing and kind of word vomit-y. But, I have an idea in my mind how I want it to end up now-I didn't like having no plan! **

**Thanks for reading.**

Chapter 3

She had tried.

She _was_ trying.

She got up every day. She bathed. She ate. She disappeared into the woods to roam for hours. She spoke when spoken to (barely), but had no desire whatsoever to strike up conversation with anyone. She wasn't their leader. She was simply an anonymous one among the many. Well, anonymous but for the fact that everyone knew who she was and what she'd done. It was a strange routine for a former Queen.

Stuck in between two lives, yet still struggling with an identity.

She sometimes saw familiar faces.

Granny, no, Widow Lucas.

Belle, who stumbled around with a haunted, agonised expression on her face. The girl obviously had no idea how to school her feelings in a way that kept them from being seen by every soul she came across. It was rather pathetic, really.

That insufferable dwarf, Grumpy.

She didn't approach them. Neither did they approach her. The only ones who did were Mulan, who had tossed her a bowl from which she ate her meagre meals (it wasn't as if she was hungry anyway) and Snow and Charming, who had finally returned from their expedition.

She was trying (barely) to care about that too, but mostly failing. To care about the whispers and rumours they had brought back of a strange and fearsome witch invading the Enchanted Forest. Of tales of her kingdom's reign of terror, of refugees pouring out of her realm and into theirs.

An evil witch.

It sounded all too familiar. Except that this time, the evil witch wasn't her. She was supposedly on the good side, though she shuddered at such naively pointless terms like 'good' and 'evil'. She was meant to fight _against_ this new menace. Free the kingdom. Free the people. They wanted her to be one of them. To be a leader with them. To plan strategy and offer suggestions for the benefit of all.

She could think of nothing she wanted less.

Snow was clearly still devastated about having to say goodbye to Emma again. Her eyes were dark, her expression grave. But, she had found some way to put her pain into action. Into some selfless quest to see that others survived.

It made her lip curl in what she imagined to be an ugly sneer. One part disdain, that she could be so nauseatingly _good_, and the other part…jealousy.

Jealousy?

She had buried that thought deep down under a hard rock of anguish, before it could lead her any further down a path that would force her to see a life beyond the misery that felt so incredibly safe.

Call her selfish.

Everybody else did.

Of course, Snow had inevitably crossed the line with her well-meant concern and her gentle desire to pick Regina up from the mire she was clinging to. She spent half her time wondering why Snow even bothered.

"_Regina, don't let what you did for Emma and Henry be for nothing. You've come so far. We need you. Make Henry proud."_

She had had to dig her nails into her palms until it hurt deliciously to stop herself from slapping Snow violently until her nose bled and several teeth had dropped out of her mouth and onto the ground like little white pebbles. It reminded her momentarily of her younger days when she would have strange visions of hurting her then-step-daughter. She had stalked forward slowly, her expression so much the Evil Queen that Charming had grasped at his sword in readiness.

"_In case you forgot, my son no longer knows I exist. In case it has escaped you, there isn't a single pitiful creature in this realm whom I would ever aspire to make proud."_

Her words had practically dripped contempt. It made her feel grimly satisfied that some parts of her hadn't changed that much.

"_Well then, what about because it's the right thing to do?"_

She could never help herself, the damn fool.

"_And when have I ever looked like doing that just because Snow White asked me to? The Evil Queen is always close, dear and you'd do well not to forget what I am capable of. What I have always been capable of."_

Snow had looked at her with such a gentle expression then. A kind of almost-affection, as if she could see right through the façade and into the swirling void where she currently resided.

"_No, you would never do it for me. But, the truth is that I don't think you are the Evil Queen anymore and even more than that, I don't think that's who you want to be. Regardless of Henry's memories, you still love him more than anything and you would do anything for him to see the best of who you are. This is grief, Regina. I know, because I feel it too."_

Her vision had gone all white and red after that and her lack of any air at all had led to her turning on her heel and dashing blindly away.

_She doesn't know me!_

_We are not the same!_

She refused to accept that. Tried to shut out the thought that it was she who had caused this pain for Snow in the very beginning when she had separated her from Emma. Tried to slam her mind shut and barricade it from the thought that now she knew how it felt. That she could feel _empathy._

What could she do with the phrase _I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy? _She already had.

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, but not before half-stumbling through the undergrowth. She threw her arm forward to grasp at a tree to stop herself from sprawling. She suddenly became aware of how harsh her panting breath sounded in her ear, gasping and desperate. Her face, she could tell, was no longer the cold mask she had kept perfectly in place. She could only imagine the ugly contortions it was making.

"Regina? Regina, where are you going?"

_Oh God. Not now._

She couldn't see him. Couldn't look at him. Couldn't listen to his gentle voice that sounded like a song. She felt magic and torment and sorrow burning hot through her every vein. Nobody could be near her right now.

A Queen does not trip over her own scrabbling feet and fall. A Queen never has need to run in the first place. A Queen shows poise and grace at all times.

After a thud and a moment of shock, she tasted the dirt in her mouth. Felt the tear of skin on her knees, her elbows. Lay there, facedown, legs akimbo, breathing heavily. But, she couldn't stay still. She had to keep moving. She wondered what it would be like if she simply disappeared into the mist and never returned. Ran until she dropped off the edge of a cliff.

She placed her hands on the ground and lifted herself up again. Made it to her knees. Almost hyperventilating.

"Regina, are you alright?"

She would never remember the exact details of what she did at that moment and would be grateful later for his easy forgiveness, his simple wisdom. She would wonder, not for the first time, how he knew.

She recalled a scream. It was her mouth. Her scream.

"_Get away from me!"_

Her hands had reached out blindly, torn the new bunch of flowers from his hands and crushed them.

"_Get away from me!"_

By then, she was up on her feet, lurching away, staggering as if drunk. She didn't turn to look back at him. Only looked for the mist, the fog in which she could hide.

She didn't know how far she got before she fell again.

This time she stayed down. On her hands and knees, teeth gritted, eyes clenched closed, bile rising higher and higher.

She opened her mouth and the contents of her stomach emptied themselves. She coughed and gagged, her hair falling across her face in a curtain. Somehow, her gasping breaths had turned to whimpers and moans, loud in the silence. Her hair felt damp, stuck to her face and neck.

_Enough of that._

She reached down into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the small knife she had procured and carried with her. Perhaps she had known this moment was coming.

Sitting up, she reached for a handful of her long dark hair and pulled until her eyes stung with tears. She lifted the knife…

Twenty minutes later, she felt calmer. Exhausted and utterly spent, but calmer.

The knife (and lack of a mirror) couldn't give her hair the style she had had as Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke. But, then, she no longer was Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke. But, this was as close as she could be to the physical person Henry had last seen. And the heavy weight that had hung on her shoulders and back was gone.

But, there was still a weight.

Inside.

Pushing her down. Ruining and removing her from what she had been close to becoming with Henry at the end.

Her face crumbled. Her shoulders shook. Her breathing grew ragged.

"Henry," she choked. "Henry."

Of all the wretched things that could happen, Snow was right.

It was just grief. Simple grief.

The same grief millions of others felt everyday.

Swallowing her alive.

* * *

She hadn't seen him for days. Hadn't felt his presence, hadn't been aware of him watching her.

She wasn't in the habit of feeling regret. She hadn't been able to regret anything after Henry because, even after all of the wicked, _wicked_ things she'd done, to take them all back would be to take Henry back too. And that, she could never do.

To regret anything here, back in the home of her younger years, meant to regret without Henry. It meant regret simply by knowing what she'd done was the wrong thing. She wasn't in the habit of second-guessing herself.

But, Roland was simply a child and what had he done? He'd given her gifts and spoken to her without fear or expectation. It burned inside to admit it, but he was the only other person besides Henry to do that.

And Daniel too, she supposed. But, old heartache had given way to new for the time being.

She wasn't sure she wanted him in her life again. He reminded her too much of things beyond her reach, for all the power she had. No, she didn't need him.

But, nor did she want to expose him to how cruel grownups could be. Not just yet. He would find that out for himself one day. She didn't want to be his teacher for that particular lesson.

For once, she didn't set out for the woods behind their camp to while away the numb, lonely hours. Instead, she moved among the tents, listening and watching, being as invisible as possible while waiting to learn the one small piece of information she needed to accomplish her task.

And eventually, she got it.

She pulled out the piece of thread taken from her dress and carefully tied the small collection of white flowers she had gathered together. Then, she tucked the wooden horse she had decided to give up in behind the knot, wiggling it with her fingers to check it wouldn't fall out.

And after long moments of making sure nobody would see, she had darted forward and lifted back the flap on the old tent father and son shared.

Two beds.

She pressed her lips together at the ragged, stuffed animal lying on one of the pillows. Stepping inside, she placed her offering carefully onto the pillow. Then, she quickly stood up and backed out of the shelter.

Some habits died hard. Like her pride. Like her inability to really say sorry. Or to admit her shortcomings aloud.

But, for the first time since the purple cloud had swept her to this nightmare, she had moved outside her own mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thanks for reading and for your positive thoughts. I'm still kind of feeling my way through with Regina's interactions with other people. She's going to start doing that more in this chapter and the chapters to come.**

**If something sounds familiar, it's because I used a few lines from Ep 3x03 in this chapter.**

**Hope you all had really special Christmases :)**

Chapter 4

The fire crackled and its smoke rose from around the enormous pot sitting upon it. She stared into it, as seemed to be her habit lately. It was an excuse not to have to look at anyone. Strange, since she'd rarely had trouble looking anyone in the eye when she was torturing them. Or killing them. Or frightening them half to death. In fact, her eyes had always been a part of her beautiful wickedness.

These days, her eyes just burned most of the time. She was glad, for once, that there wasn't a single mirror to show the darkness she was sure had surrounded them. Crawled inside them.

The darkness.

In those moments that she had been so low and deep and black, she had been blind, absolutely blind to anything but anger and hatred and death and destruction. It had been in those moments that she, quietly, had been sure that nothing in any of the realms could possibly bring her back.

Mistress to the darkness.

Covered in shadows.

But, now?

She hurt. All over and all the time. But, the outside hurt was merely physical strain taking its toll. Torture by Mendel. Stopping the black diamond. Sea voyages. Trekking through Neverland.

And the inside hurt? Well, she'd chosen that. It had been _her_ decision. Undo what she'd started. Save her son. Give him the chance to be happy.

And somehow, in the depths of her despair, she still felt the rightness of that choice.

And, stranger still, that old darkness felt more and more foreign, despite her being back here where it had been the thing wrapped thickest around her.

She wasn't entirely sure what had affected this tiny break in the dark clouds surrounding her. It could have been because she was sleeping better through the night, despite being on the cold, hard ground. Or it could have been because the weather wasn't quite so grim and gloomy. Or it might simply have been because she was getting used to the routine of the camp.

A tiny inner voice sometimes told her it was because she felt proud that she'd finally chosen the right way.

Whatever the case, it wasn't as if she was ready to be in the world again. She still didn't wish to let herself be amongst the people here or to get about the business of actually living. Not while it was still so incredibly difficult to look at the world and decide whose eyes she was seeing it with.

No, it was simply a little easier to breathe again.

Her hand moved back and forth slowly, the knife cutting smoothly, guided by her deft fingers. Her shortened hair was tucked behind her ears, though a few strands inevitably came loose, and her head bent forward as she focused on her task.

"The Queen peeling potatoes? I never thought I'd see that."

She didn't bother looking up as Tinkerbell settled beside her on the log.

"Former," she murmured, throwing the peel onto the pile and dropping the potato into the pot.

She felt the fairy eyeing her carefully as she concentrated on picking up another vegetable. Finally, with a sigh that came from knowing she wouldn't win this contest, she raised her eyes to meet Tinkerbell's. Felt and saw the woman appraising her with a glance.

"I lived in a realm for twenty-eight years with modern appliances and no servants. I learned to cook," she said, almost defensively.

_And I enjoyed it._

Tinkerbell shook her head, smiling slightly. It struck Regina as a pitying smile, one rather like that which she had worn when they had sat down together for a drink upon first meeting all those years ago.

"No, you said 'former,'" the fairy replied, her eyebrows raised. "You once called yourself the Queen of nothing and yet it's only now you've given up. It's just interesting, that's all. After everything."

She felt herself stiffen. The words poked at her, lessened her. Despite their somewhat timid acquaintance-bordering-on-friendship (_friendship?_), she imagined she was being slighted in some way. She felt her lip curl.

"Who says I've given up?" she bit back, sitting up straighter and lifting her chin. It had been surprisingly easy to be able to think of herself not as the Queen. At first she had thought it was because she had been a mayor for decades and so dropping the title was of very little consequence after the passing of so much time. But, after numerous incidents of being addressed as 'Your Majesty,' she had grown increasingly tired of the title. Tired of everything that came with the title. She didn't want such attention. Especially if _that _adjective was added to it.

And then, one night, in the small, dark hours, she had come to the conclusion that if she wanted to lose _that _adjective, she would have to lose the title too.

She'd once asked Emma Swan to let her simply die as Regina. Perhaps she could still be Regina.

She'd closed her eyes after that and had the best sleep she'd had in years.

She brought her attention back to Tinkerbell, who looked around.

"Well, you're sitting here by yourself, peeling vegetables-"

"I was told in no uncertain terms that everyone needed to contribute," she said through clenched teeth. When she had stared blankly at the rough woman who had all but barked the order at her, she had wondered if the phrase 'suck it up' had made it to this realm yet. If anyone were going to use that phrase with her, this woman had looked like a prime contender. "I volunteered to chop vegetables only. I take no responsibility for whatever watery broth they concoct."

She had allowed herself an inner smirk at the look of absolute shock on the main cook's face when she had shown up for duty. She had half expected a pat-down for poison or concealed weapons.

Tinkerbell carried on as if she hadn't heard a word.

"You're refusing to help Snow and David go after the Witch," she said pointedly.

Yes, the damn Charmings and their new noble mission to rid the world of evil. They had told her of the outer reaches of the Enchanted Forest reporting attacks by this dark witch's minions. Of frightened people looking to them for protection. For defence. Plans were being made, even as she sat here by the fire, removed from such action.

"I have no desire to participate in some foolhardy mission with a bunch of incompetents," she snarked. "I did enough of that in Neverland."

Tinkerbell shifted on the log to face her.

"You barely speak to anyone," she said, her voice softening. "We've been here for weeks and I don't think it's good for you to be alone, Regina."

She swallowed, her attention firmly focused on the potato, though she made no move to remove its skin. She was inclined to be silent here. She'd let her weaknesses show far too much to this fairy and it grated on her every nerve, every part of herself that tried to keep the truth from everyone.

At times, including herself.

Tinkerbell had been the first person she'd come across after that day in the forest. Barely minutes after half choking on her own bile, chopping a good deal of her hair off and crying semi-hysterically, she must have looked completely frightful. Tinkerbell had looked…scared.

Not scared of her.

Scared _for_ her.

She had all but shoved the woman away from her and retreated into her own tent to lick her wounds, completely humiliated that someone should see her in that state. She had felt helplessly confused, helplessly frustrated.

Just…helpless.

"I've only ever been alone, Tinkerbell," she said vehemently, pointing the knife in the air for emphasis. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

Tinkerbell rested her elbow on her knee and placed her chin in her hand.

"I didn't say you couldn't take care of yourself," she corrected. "I said it wasn't good for you to be alone."

"And what would you know about what I need?" She snapped her mouth shut, jutting out her chin. It seemed, like Snow, she couldn't help herself either when it came to her vices. Biting the hand that fed her, burning bridges, stomping all over olive branches. It no longer sounded intimidating. It sounded childish.

Tinkerbell raised her eyebrows.

"I did at one time," she replied knowingly. "You just didn't want to face it."

Regina sighed. If only her mind didn't feel so tired, she could have kept up this back-and-forth for awhile longer.

"_I didn't jump. I fell."_

"_Right, you fell."_

First, Snow. Now, Tinkerbell. When had other people begun knowing her better than she knew herself?

"_And what do I need?"_

"_You don't even know? Regina, love. You need love…"_

She closed her eyes briefly.

"What do you want from me, Tinkerbell?"

The soft hand on hers stopped her agitated movements. She stared at their joined hands, chewing the inside of her cheek.

"You're stronger than this, Regina. No one's denying you're suffering. But, look around. Everyone's suffering. I know you have good in you, I've _seen_ it. Now, I want to see that girl I met all those years ago. The one who followed me because she still had some hope. I know you remember that girl. And I don't think she's buried so deep that she can't be found." The fairy gestured to the sky. "This place has changed, our lives have changed. What are you going to do with yours?" She gave Regina's hand a squeeze, before standing up. "There's another meeting tomorrow at first light if you decide you're interested in helping."

She glared up at Tinkerbell, making a final, half-hearted effort.

"Did Snow ask you to come and convince me?"

Tinkerbell smiled at her.

"No. I just know how much good you could do."

She watched her leave, lips slightly parted in disbelief, her hand still open where the fairy's had held it, the potato and knife clutched in her other. Long moments passed, the sky darkening as evening turned to night.

_What are you going to do with yours?_

Automatically, she switched the knife from one hand to the other and began peeling again, trying to block a thousand different thoughts that all seemed to lead back to someone believing in her.

Though for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why.

So, she forced herself to change the subject.

Instead, she thought of the many hours she had spent in her beautiful kitchen in Storybrooke. She had become quite proficient in cooking over twenty-eight years, but never moreso than in the eleven years with Henry.

She felt a brief, heavy pressing in her chest at that. Briefly wondered if Emma was cooking well for him.

Better not to think about how there would never be any more of that ever again.

It had felt strange and delightful to prepare meals for herself after having cooks and servants to do it all for her. To finally, for once, have control over something in her own life. And then to have to think of new and interesting ways to get a three-year old Henry to eat anything resembling a vegetable or a piece of fruit.

Almost involuntarily, one corner of her mouth curled slightly upwards.

She pulled a long, curling piece of potato peel from her lap and tossed it to the ground. It reminded her…

"_Henry, if I can peel this apple all the way around without breaking it, you will eat it."_

He had stared wondrously at her hands as she had held an apple and peeled it all in one thin strip, growing longer and longer, dangling down almost to the ground. She remembered his excited squeals of encouragement ("You're doing it Mommy! You're doing it!") as she had got closer and closer to the end, cupping his hands under the peel to catch it as it curled into his palm. And he had clapped when she had finished with a flourish, before throwing his arms around her legs…

Her chest seemed to sink under the weight of the memory. It burned. Oh, why did it hurt so? She felt her eyes fill until she was looking out at the night as if through running water…

"Hi Regina."

She jumped and blinked fast, two tears escaping, shaken from her memory at the stage whisper. She sat still for a moment, swallowing her thickening throat, not acknowledging Roland's presence. She felt again the sting of involuntary tears in her eyes. But, for the first time in days, these weren't tears of sorrow. They were tears of relief.

_He came back._

She had not seen the boy since sending him her secret gift. The longer the silence had gone on, the more convinced she had become that she had hurt him, frightened him enough that he would never want to see her again. That would never have mattered before. But, the thought had pained her, though why the friendship of a mere child should suddenly be so important to her was a complete mystery.

Perhaps it was just nice to have company that didn't involve an agenda. Perhaps she had allowed herself to be drawn into his innocence, especially in the long-since absence of her own. Perhaps her own grief lessened watching his games, hearing his chatter.

She exhaled a sigh that felt full of unshed tears. Her eyes drifted to where Roland was lurking, not quite reaching him, but enough that she had to turn her head.

She needed this.

She needed something good.

To remind herself that perhaps Tinkerbell was still right about her.

She gripped the potato firmly in her palm and turned her body slightly more toward the boy's hiding place. It would be decidedly more difficult with a knife than a peeler, but, well, if she could curse worlds, cast spells and transport herself from place to place with magic, she could certainly do this.

It was all in the wrist.

She worked the knife slowly, carefully. An ever-lengthening strip began to appear, dangling off the potato. She didn't look over at the boy, but she knew he would be watching. As the knife moved, she changed her grip on the potato, moving it around in her palm as the knife removed the peel. It was a large potato and the strip itself was quite long now and she was only halfway done. She paused, chancing a look up.

His eyes were locked on what her hands were doing. His little mouth was open slightly, looking as if he were concentrating just as much as she was.

She turned her eyes back to the task at hand and moved the knife again. It wouldn't be as good as her apples, the end result nowhere near as long or impressive, but the look on his face only urged her on. She was now three quarters of the way around the potato and the length of peel was draped across her knees and dangling down the side of her leg, inching further and further toward the ground.

She looked up at him again as she made the final cut, holding the now peelless potato higher so he could see.

His eyes were lit up like Christmas tree lights, his mouth stretched in a beaming smile. And when their eyes met, he seemed to be looking at her like she was a magician and he had no idea how on earth she had performed her trick. Which, when one thought about it, was the true magic behind a trick.

For a moment, that look burst upon her like brilliant sunshine and she felt something crack inside her. Thawed. Warmed.

And then it brought her crashing back to earth and she leaned forward, dropping the potato in the pot with a plop. He wasn't the boy she wanted there with her. He wasn't the boy she wanted looking at her with those eyes. She lowered her eyes and felt the sullen mood dropping heavily down on her again. Even she was growing tired of this rollercoaster of emotions.

She put the knife down and stared at the length of peel in her lap.

"Regina. How did you do that?"

She jumped, unaware of his approach. She looked up and he was barely two feet from her, staring down at her accomplishment.

Validation from some potato peel and a four-year-old.

If only she had the energy for scorn.

She gathered it up in her hands and held it for a moment.

"I used to cook a lot. It's better with apples."

_It's better with Henry._

He reached up with small hands and touched the peel, still smiling incredulously.

"Can you teach me?"

_Mommy, can you teach me?_

She stiffened her back and thrust the peel at Roland.

"Perhaps another time," she said flatly.

He stepped away from her and lifted the peel high, his eyes scanning its length.

"It's like the reins on Papa's horse," he said, jiggling it around a little. Then he draped it around his neck. "Or a rope." He looked up at her grinning.

She almost, _almost, _felt the corners of her mouth twitch in response. She wished it didn't make her heart feel heavier to be sorry she had made this boy beam like the sun.

He regarded her carefully for a moment and then looked down at the peel.

She jolted with a start when he suddenly tore it.

_Honestly, it's a potato peel!_

She watched, brow furrowed, as he placed the longest piece on the log next to her, leaving a much shorter segment in his hand. His tongue peeked out over his lips as he concentrated on making a circle shape, before turning to her.

Then he reached up and placed the potato ring on her head.

She felt her eyebrows shoot practically to her forehead and her eyes followed. She sat, stunned. She swallowed.

"Am I a Queen? Is that my crown?" she asked in a slightly croaky voice, wondering why she feared his answer.

The boy shook his head immediately.

"An angel!" he exclaimed.

She had no control over the chuckle that escaped from her throat. It died on her lips barely a second later.

An angel.

Even after what she'd done to him.

She lowered her eyes and a small sigh escaped.

"Regina, why are you sad?" Roland asked in a small voice. She tried not to release the shuddering whimper she was sure was on the edge of her lips when he reached forward and brushed her hair back from her face.

She wanted to curl into a ball right here by the cooking fire. She wanted to allow her face to crumble into the pained, exhausted wreck it wanted to be.

_Regina, why are you sad?_

She remembered Snow's words about happy endings not being what one thought they would be.

She thought of the moment she had released Daniel from the world, finally freed him from the torture of the monster he had become. If not a happy ending, then certainly a more peaceful one, his mind's last thoughts fixed on a more hopeful future for her.

She thought of the look on her mother's face as her heart had been returned to her. She would carry that unburdened smile and love for the rest of her life.

She thought of Henry, at this moment, living the good life she had given him. Good memories. A good mother.

Each a happy ending in their own way. A happy ending she had given them.

The curse was supposed to have been her happy ending. But, in the end, she had admitted to her son that she'd been wrong all along.

What was that Tinkerbell had said about hope?

"Why did you cut your hair?" Roland whispered, flicking the ends with the tips of his fingers.

She tilted her head to the side and smiled at him. A real smile.

"I decided it was much too long. I think it's better this way."

He nodded fervently.

"Me too."

Her smile faded. She leaned forward slightly.

"Roland?"

He looked curious.

"Do you remember the other day? When I was very…sad…and I shouted at you?"

He nodded slowly. Cautiously. His fingers stilled, his eyes cast down.

"Well, I'm very sorry I did that. I didn't mean to frighten you. And I was…hoping…that we could be friends again."

He looked at her bashfully and began playing with her hair again, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

"We can be friends, Regina."

Why did her heart suddenly feel a hundred times lighter with just five words?

She reached forward with one finger and scratched at the front of his shirt. And smiled again.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He reached up and pulled the dangling potato peel off her head and stepped back.

"See you soon, Regina," he sang and turned, running off between the tents.

Her smile unconsciously returned to her face and she bent over, immersing her hands in the water bowl near her feet, rubbing them together to rinse off the potato starch.

"That was quite the feat of potato peeling," a voice said from the other side of the campfire.

Her head snapped up and her eyes fixed on none other than Robin Hood. She immediately wondered what he had seen. What he had heard.

"I'm better with apples," she said offhandedly, thinking of nothing better to say. Remembering their conversation from days prior, she opened her mouth again. "He sought me out."

Robin lifted a hand in gentle supplication.

"I have nothing to say about that," he replied, moving closer to her and the fire. He sat heavily on a log and ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw, his face pensive.

She furrowed her brow. People didn't just change their minds that quickly. Not when it came to her. People clung to their judgments and conclusions stubbornly. Most of the people she had been associated with anyway.

"Why not? It seemed to bother you when we last spoke. I believe you said it wasn't a good idea."

Robin inclined his head a fraction in acknowledgement of that truth.

"I've learned in my time never to argue or get on the bad side of the cook," he said affably. Amusedly.

She narrowed her eyes. Was he mocking her?

"What?"

He nodded over at the fire, then waved his hand dismissively after a moment, perhaps on realising she didn't share his attempt at humour, before looking over and staring at her pointedly.

"I've heard confusing and contradicting reports about you."

She raised an eyebrow, feeling her familiar nature rise within her again.

"I assure you that everything you've heard is true and that you haven't heard even half of what I've done."

His forehead crinkled with an expression that said he had expected her reaction.

"Yes, we know you are the Evil Queen and none of us has forgotten your past actions. We still live with the consequences. There is a lot of anger. A lot of suspicion."

She stared at him unflinchingly. This was more along the lines of what she expected. She had thought it would come sooner.

"Yet," he continued, picking up a stick and dragging it across the ground, "that is not what disturbs me. For one thing, the person who was supposedly your greatest enemy has assured us that we can consider you an ally. Snow White seems to think that you can work with us. Be an invaluable source of help." He shook his head slightly. "You'll have to pardon some of us if we're a little…slow to accept such a transformation. Things have changed, but people remember."

She couldn't care less what he and the other…peasants thought of her. But, she blinked and looked down at the ground, disarmed by the involuntary switch Snow seemed to be making on her behalf.

_Was she their ally now?_

She didn't quite know. All of her previous alliances had been built on mutually assured destruction, blackmail and manipulation. And when there was no one left to ally herself with, well, she'd simply been on her own side.

"But, even considering all of that," Robin continued again, tapping the stick against the ground, "the sight of my son's face when he received your…gift…and hearing your words just now…" He smiled faintly while staring at the fire. "My son has not had the reasons to smile that he should have. And you seem to have the ability to make it happen. Roland doesn't take too easily to strangers, but from almost the moment he saw you…" He seemed uncomfortable at the thought.

Still, she said nothing. She imagined her words would mean very little to him, but she knew that the wrong words would impact any scarce moments she might share with his boy.

His eyes lifted and he stared at her with a piercing gaze. Searching. Looking for deception, she imagined. She tried to keep herself still under the scrutiny.

Finally, he seemed to decide. Accept.

"And if that's the way of it, well, I won't stop him from visiting you should he choose. But, take care."

She saw in his eyes the words he left unsaid. She had no idea who this man was, but she could recognise the father in him. The ferocity that would emerge should Roland come into any form of distress or danger.

"Roland may consider me his ally," she said smoothly. It felt too personal to say she would take care of him. Be his friend. To talk in terms of politics felt more like something she could offer freely.

But, she reminded herself, she had made no such commitment to Snow and Charming's cause. She could all but see Snow's insufferable knowing expression and hear her _"not yet, anyway."_

Robin tossed the stick into the fire and stood.

"An interesting choice of words, Your Majesty, but I shall hold you to them," he said, nodding. He held her eyes a moment longer and she watched as the flickering fire was reflected in his. "Thank you."

She nodded wordlessly as he walked away.

A strange day indeed. She didn't know what to make of it all. She felt like she should be more guarded, more wary of the intentions of those around her. But, it seemed more and more that she was looking for secret agendas in the words and eyes of people who had none.

Snow's intentions had never been secret. She was always foolishly wide open.

Tinkerbell seemed only to be seeking her out for companionship and a genuine desire to help her, especially since she'd got her wings back. Of course, that's what she'd done all those years ago.

And Robin Hood? Well, it was easy to see that the only thing on his mind was to protect his young son. And it appeared he trusted her with Roland, though she sensed the deep reservations.

It almost seemed there were as many people who believed in her as did _not_. Even now, when it was most likely she could turn to the very worst of herself.

Could it really be that all they wanted from her was her assistance? Could it really be that they knew her better than she knew herself right now?

Brow furrowed, she picked up a turnip and forced the knife into action again.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Thanks for reading.**

**Happy New Year!**

Chapter 5

It was still dark in the forest at this time of morning. The stars had faded and the sky was grey, but a dim light grew, stretching further and further above her.

Her shoes crunched the leaves and dead twigs underfoot as she searched.

She wasn't entirely sure where she was going. She hadn't found what she was looking for anywhere inside the camp. Nothing but quiet tents, occasionally punctuated by a loud snore or a rustle. On considering it more, she realised she would find it, _them_, out of earshot of the camp. It would be less likely to cause a panic if the folk inside didn't really know what they were in for.

She, however, was no stranger to the perils of enemies of all kinds.

She had lain awake most of the night debating with herself. Against herself.

Snow had said she was an ally.

But, she had never been a 'team player.'

An invaluable source of help, her former step-daughter had said.

But, she had only ever used her gifts and strengths for her own benefit. Anything she'd had was reserved for herself. Until Henry. Until she had done what needed to be done in Storybrooke…

In the years before the curse, she had had contact with only a few people on a regular basis, either because she was threatening them or because she needed something from them.

Never to assist.

Never to give.

And now the very people she had taken from were asking her to give.

Did she want to? Did she want to give to _them_? It felt like something she shouldn't be able to stomach.

She would have given to Henry without a moment's hesitation. Anything and everything he asked for. Because she loved him with every fibre of her being and that would never change.

There was nobody here that she loved. There had been only Henry in nearly thirty years. Before that had been her father, but she couldn't imagine doing to Henry what she had done to her father at the end. Loving her father hadn't been enough to save him. Did that mean she loved Henry more?

Maybe it just meant that now she wanted to hate less.

Hatred now felt like it hurt her just as much as the person it was directed at. Hatred felt like it was trying to smother and choke her love for her son right out of her. And she didn't ever want to forget that love.

Tinkerbell had said it wasn't good for her to be alone. And now, here in the dim light of dawn (but only to herself), she could admit that perhaps the fairy was right. She had once taunted Emma about having no one and Rumplestiltskin had done the same to her.

It seemed being alone didn't actually work. Driving others away and clinging to the emptiness and the darkness had no real power. Not when she couldn't bring herself to hate anymore. That hate had once crushed down any desire to reach out.

So, here she was, Regina Mills, in the frosty air, searching for a group of people that she could give to.

And then, in a clearing up ahead, she found them. So intent on her thoughts, she had no time for trepidation. She could see some of them-Snow, David, Tinkerbell, Hook, Baelfire. And new acquaintances-Robin, Little John, and a few others she had yet to meet.

She watched as several of them turned sharply as her footsteps alerted them to her presence.

Pushing aside a low-lying branch, she emerged into the clearing, keeping her head high. She'd broken down, allowed one of them to see her at her lowest, but she'd be damned if she allowed the rest of them to see anything but strength. Moving her eyes over the group, Regina allowed herself a small inner smile of satisfaction.

She still had the ability to plunge a crowd into stunned silence.

Tinkerbell smiled broadly and nodded as if she had been expecting her all along. _That fairy needs to rein in that happy optimism_, Regina thought, _lest she start to depend on any goodness I might have. _

Snow's eyebrows rose, her eyes lit in cautious surprise….and hope? _Another chance?_ she mused wryly, suddenly flashing back to another chance in a prison cell, when she'd tried stabbing the girl with a false knife. Strange how she still thought of Snow as a girl sometimes. Strange how Snow kept giving her chances. Or maybe it was her, giving Snow a chance…

Several of the men, none of whom she knew by name, regarded her through narrowed eyes. More of Robin's _un_merry men. Her eyes briefly flickered across to _him_, but his face was impassive.

"What's _she _doing here?" one asked, drawing his sword and clenching it in a tight grip. Several others widened their stances, hands drifting to their weapon belts, as if digging in for a fight.

Not only could she effectively conjure silence, she could even change the taste of the very air around them.

She gazed at the sword-wielder steadily, allowing a tiny smirk to play across her face as she looked him up and down with disdain. She had trained herself against hostility until it had no longer frightened her, until she had learned to embrace it, until the hostility had simply become part of the darkness within her. She could snap his neck like a twig with a flick of her wrist if she so desired. If he crossed her, she just might.

Or not. But, just because her actions no longer spoke evil, didn't mean her thoughts were pure.

"It's ok," Tinkerbell stepped forward, holding her hands up placatingly. "She's one of us."

He sneered and spat at the ground. He lifted the sword and pointed it towards her. She simply lifted an eyebrow lazily in response.

"_She _is not one of us," he scoffed. "She is the very reason we're all in this mess! I say we cast her out. We've no need to carry her as our burden. She deserves no protection. She was banished once, let her slink away into the shadows where she belongs."

Several of them rumbled in agreement.

Charming was the one to step forward at that. He moved toward the man and placed a hand on the gleaming weapon.

"The curse and its effects were Regina's doing," he said quietly. He glanced at her. "And perhaps others too." He looked around at the group. "But this current fiend has nothing to do with Regina. Snow and I wished her to join us because we may have need of her skills before this is done." His jaw firmed. "Anyone who cannot trust to that is free to return to the camp."

Nobody moved and she found herself fascinated, _fascinated_, that she had had no need to either speak or act in the theatre taking place before her. Tinkerbell and David had stepped to her defence and, even now, Snow had taken several steps towards her as if to stand between her and those who wished her ill.

It reminded her of the day they had returned to Storybrooke. She had stood alone, attempting to remain unaffected at the way everyone had someone to welcome them back but her. Then…

"_And we owe a lot of it to her. Regina helped save us all."_

She wasn't often lost for words. But, that had rendered her speechless. She rarely hesitated, but those words had frozen her. How could her nemesis speak that way despite being the one who knew what she was so intimately? Her own imagination couldn't stretch so far as to consider any situation in which she would speak of Snow with such…positive attentions.

Inwardly shaking herself off, she eyed the group.

"As amusing as this little debate over my honour is, Tinkerbell led me to believe there were rather more important things at stake."

Little John nodded and there was an almost visible sigh of relief as David pressed down gently on the sword's blade and the man wielding it sheathed his weapon.

"Aye, Your M-"

"Regina," she cut him off. "That will do."

He nodded again.

"Aye, Regina, we have a plan. This witch has yet to enter our realm, but she has wasted no time sending in her soldiers. Not many, but enough to destroy a number of villages along the frontier and cause others to relocate their women and children."

"Do we know what she wants?" Mulan asked, stepping into the circle. "Why she has chosen this land as her target."

David shook his head, frowning.

"We could barely get any information. She is shrouded in mystery. Everything we learned was based on hearsay and rumour." He looked gravely around the group. "The only thing we know for certain is that she is coming and we need to be prepared."

Robin Hood knelt down on the ground and pulled out a dagger. He dug it into the dirt and dragged it along in a straight line. Everyone watched in silence. After drawing several other lines and shapes, he looked up.

"The frontier lies here," he gestured to the line with his dagger. "And so far, these villages have been attacked." He pointed them out on his dirt canvas. "The bandits, soldiers, whatever they may be, appear to be heading east. Toward us. We intend to take a party out to ambush them, send a warning that this realm is not unprotected. Perhaps even to acquire prisoners who may be convinced to feed us information." He stood up. "As the strongest and healthiest, my men and I, Hook, David and Baelfire will go."

Regina looked down at the crude map he had drawn. She glanced up to find Snow watching her carefully.

"Regina?" she said, a question in her voice.

She turned and addressed Robin.

"You say you will take the strongest and healthiest of the men. That leaves the old and infirm and the women and children behind. What if you fail? What's to stop this camp from being overrun?"

David cleared his throat.

"We're hoping that's where you come in, Regina," he replied.

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him.

"You want me to use magic to protect the camp," she stated. At his nod, she pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows.

Her magic was always vilified, looked upon as something dark and wicked. Until someone needed it. Until it proved useful to their particular purposes. She bit back several belligerent remarks about how it had been her magic that had been the most important thing to save Henry and get the hell out of Neverland. Yet, they had tried numerous times to stymie it.

"We need you to do this, Regina," Tinkerbell interrupted her thoughts, as if aware of her internal conversation. "Your magic is the only way to ensure our safety."

"I thought she only knew curses," one of the other men muttered, yet loud enough for everyone to hear.

She could practically see Snow and Charming wince at the comment. She let her eyes travel over the man for a long moment, before opening her hand and conjuring a fireball. She smirked as he gulped.

"Then you were mistaken," she replied in a low voice. She made a fist and the fire disappeared.

"Can you do it?" Little John asked. "Many of us have families in this camp. We have no wish to leave them vulnerable."

_Of course I can do it. I'm the most powerful being in the realm, you imbecile._

She nodded once.

"Yes," she said simply. "I can do it."

"_Will_ you?"

Regina turned her head to look at Snow, who had voiced the question, most likely on everyone's behalf. There were many things she could have done in her life, but hadn't. And many she should never even have contemplated, but had carried out all too quickly.

It was her help they wanted. And magic was the one way she knew to get things done.

_Why else would you tramp through the undergrowth at the crack of dawn? _She asked herself.

Again, she nodded, more slowly this time.

"Yes," she said, swallowing against the tightness in her voice. She couldn't help but wish Henry were here at this moment. The small, proud smile that would have graced her son's face would have made standing here forcing herself to work with this rag-tag bunch worth it a hundred times over. For he was the only one who would be proud. She reserved no pride in herself. Or much of anything else. The darkness had seen to that.

"Will anything be able to get past your magic?" Robin asked.

The tinge of softness in his eyes meant that, though he cared about every soul in this camp, he was asking the question for one four-year-old boy.

"I assume the soldiers on the frontier have been using physical weapons and not magic to destroy those towns," she said. At his nod, she continued. "Then they won't get past me. The Witch, on the other hand…" While it tasted bitter to admit her own limitations, the shaky, unspoken truce dictated only the truth. "Depending on how much power she has, there may be a chance she could…weaken whatever protection I place around the camp. So," she challenged, "you had better make sure it doesn't come to that. For everyone's sake."

The corner of Robin's mouth twitched and she thought she saw a flash of amusement in his eyes at her words. Or perhaps irritation.

"I'm confident it won't come to that," he replied.

Nodding, she turned to David and Snow. A burst of confidence suddenly made her feel as if she were taller, lighter. As if the grey clouds which had been swirling inside her mind for weeks now had retracted somewhat. Action. A plan. Something to focus her mind on, instead of staring into the colourless void of life without…

_Quiet._

"I have a spell in mind," she began. "But, it will work best if we can move everyone left in the camp into a more confined space. The magic will be more concentrated and, therefore, stronger."

Snow nodded.

"Granny, Belle and I can do that," she replied.

"Well, that's it," David ended the gathering. "The ambush team will leave under cover of darkness tonight."

* * *

The camp was quiet. A hushed tension had descended like a pall, judging by the looks being exchanged, the clasping of hands together, the lingering intimacy between friends and family.

Tension because the men were departing.

Tension because of the uncertainty.

Tension because the protection of the camp lay in the hands of the Evil Queen.

She ignored this, preferring to preserve her strength for the task ahead, rather than on the ungrateful cretins who tiptoed this way and that around her. They were lucky she had already agreed.

She stood at the back of the group, peering into the dark night as the men (and Mulan) made their final preparations and goodbyes. The moment their horse's hooves had faded into the distance, she would take over.

"Papa!"

She turned at the familiar voice and her eyes followed Roland as he ran toward his father and clung to his legs. She watched the exchange from the corner of her eye.

"Roland, lad, I told you to stay put."

The boy looked up at his father pleadingly.

"Papa, I don't want you to go."

Robin squatted down until he was face to face with Roland. Reaching forward, he gripped the child's shoulders and gave him a reassuring smile.

"I won't be gone long, my boy. There are many people out there who need protection and as soon as I make sure they're all safe, I will come back."

"What about us, Papa?"

He cradled his son's face in his strong hands.

"Your friend Regina is going to use her magic to help."

They both chose that moment to turn and look over at her. Feeling strangely exposed, she cast her eyes to the ground and then away in the opposite direction, thought she could still hear their voices.

Roland frowned.

"But, you don't like magic, Papa."

She turned back as Robin reached out and pulled Roland into a strong embrace.

"Sometimes things we don't like turn out to be things that can help us. I think Regina's magic will help us."

She didn't know what to think of those words.

Robin kissed the top of the boy's head and turned him around, giving him a gentle push.

"Back to bed with you, lad. I'll see you soon."

The boy hurried away and Robin stared after him for a long moment. Somehow, she knew the thoughts tangling through his mind, felt the pressing in of heavy feelings in his chest. Her own still felt so very fresh. And so, when his gaze drifted over to meet hers, the involuntary nod was over before she had even thought to stop it.

One by one, the men mounted their horses and moved to the edge of the woods outside the camp. David looked to her, his gaze penetrating.

"Regina, it's up to you."

At his words, she felt the same _crack_, the same warmthshe had felt by the fire when she had peeled that potato for Roland. Her memory didn't stretch far enough to recall any other time when someone had entrusted anything willingly to her. She was no fool. His trust and faith was by no means complete. But, he had trusted her with his daughter's future. And now he trusted her with Snow's, which somehow seemed more telling.

As the sounds of the horsemen receded into the night, she raised her hands, calling forth her magic to enact the spell.

There would be little sleep for anyone that night.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Thanks for reading. You'll notice another line from 3x03 here.**

Chapter 6

The leaves rustled in the forest canopy far above. The whumph and snuffle of an animal sounded somewhere beyond her sight. A wolf howled, lonely and mournful.

The moon disappeared behind a cloud.

She wandered along the border of the camp, just on the outside of where her magical protection of the camp began. Whereas before, she had walked this path to escape her own thoughts and demons, now her keen eyes sought the shadows out, scrutinising every movement for hidden threats.

Not that the demons weren't still present. Not that everything wrong with her heart wasn't still there, burning, cutting, crushing. There was still that staggering pressure in her chest that made breathing an effort sometimes.

But, now she had something to focus it on, channel it into. She could feel little by little, the energy inside her grow. The magic. The anger. And the more it grew, the more she would see to it that this new enemy would be spared none of her wrath. She was tired of feeling weak. They had wanted her to use her magic, so her magic she would use.

She tried not to feel the warning inside that she shouldn't be enjoying the idea quite so much. That beyond it lay danger. Not for them. For _her._

She shrugged it off and instead wondered what her enemy looked like. It hadn't been often that it was faceless.

_My happy ending looks like Snow's head on a plate._

From the moment she had discovered the child's treachery all those years ago, her enemy had always had Snow White's face. Oh, there had been other minor players in her game along the way, but in the end…

Now, she was patrolling the border with the very woman she had spent decades trying to destroy. Now, they were (joint?) leaders, responsible for the safety of the vulnerable.

And there was no buffer. None. Everyone had just left her there with Snow White! Were they absolute idiots or did they see something that she didn't?

They had fought on the Jolly Roger, scratched and torn at each other in a way that had been exhilarating. But, then Emma had stupidly jumped overboard and suddenly they were working together to save her. She and Snow had shot down each other's ideas constantly, throwing each other's flaws and failings in their faces. But, then they were standing together in front of a pocket mirror, focused solely on Henry. She couldn't stand the sight of the Charming couple with their hands and lips all over each other. And she knew Snow couldn't stomach her methods of getting things done. But, she could still hear her own voice back in Neverland, assuring Snow that she would call to the darkness so no one else would have to. And she could hear Snow's voice after Rumplestiltskin had…disappeared.

_Are you ok?_

Her chest clenched at the conflict inside. She found it impossible to act.

She would never like Snow White. Would never want to be her friend. Never desire her company. Those things were lost to history. There could never _be_ anything else. Could there?

But, Regina couldn't shake the feeling that maybe she no longer wished harm on the woman. Perhaps even since before Neverland. That if Snow were in danger, she would act…to remove the danger. And maybe, _maybe_ she could tolerate her.

If she didn't have to look at her.

"Anything?"

She squinted in the dark as the object of her musings emerged, carrying a small torch, its flames flickering gently.

"Anything will have headed in the other direction at the sight of that torch," she drawled dryly.

Snow met her gaze unflinchingly.

"I need to see where I'm going. I imagine it will take something bigger than this torch to send our enemies fleeing for cover."

Regina sighed and turned away.

"Whatever you say, dear."

Snow stepped closer, until she was standing slightly behind her.

"Why are you on the other side of the barrier?" she asked.

Regina kept her gaze trained on the woods in front of her.

"Consider the barrier the last line of defence," she replied eventually, resuming her pacing. "If something gets past my magic, it means something has got past _me_." She smiled, tight-lipped. "And then we're all in trouble."

To her surprise, Snow stepped through the barrier and joined her on the outside. She stared at her for a moment.

"I knew you were never the brightest of sparks, but that's a little ridiculous. What are you trying to prove?"

Snow bent down and thrust the torch into the dirt, snuffing out the fire. Then, she reached behind her back to grab her bow and an arrow. As if on cue, the moon reappeared.

"Not every foe needs magic to defeat it," she said, matter-of-factly.

They walked, now side-by-side, in silence.

"Are you alright?" Snow asked carefully, not looking over.

Regina sighed.

"I believe the term 'silence is golden' was made for a situation very like this," she replied testily.

Snow stopped and took hold of her arm.

"So, we're going to be in each other's lives, we're going to work together, but we're never going to talk?"

She glared at Snow.

"I prefer to let my actions speak for me."

Snow scoffed and Regina felt her anger rise a little more.

"Your actions have the unfortunate result of causing more harm than good." Snow blew out a breath. "I thought we were moving beyond this. I thought we had an actual chance to move forward. Greg and Tamara, the diamond, Neverland, the curse, what you did for Henry and my daughter…things have changed, Regina, _you've _changed. I think you've changed even more than you realise." She tilted her head to the side. "Or maybe you don't realise…"

The air around them was becoming suffocating. She wanted to rub her hands over her tired eyes and push Snow back through the barrier. Shut her up. She didn't want this woman to understand her. Pity her.

Regina leaned in, enjoying the brief flicker of uncertainty in the other woman's eyes.

"Very well," she whispered. "Let me be very clear then. I have no wish to talk to you. Our problems will not be solved with a heart-to-heart, some hand holding and a cup of cocoa. I would like it very much if you left me alone outside of the task at hand. I wish for you to…"

Snow's eyes flickered ever so slightly behind her. Regina snapped her mouth shut. The forest seemed to close in on them. She and Snow stood no more than three feet apart, frozen in place.

_Where?_ she mouthed.

Again, Snow's eyes flickered to somewhere behind her. Snow's left.

Her right.

Her gaze drifted down to where Snow's hand gripped her bow tighter and her other hand had silently, swiftly notched the arrow. She lifted her eyes again and nodded almost imperceptibly. She watched as Snow braced herself.

_One_, Snow mouthed back.

_Two._

_Three._

Regina stepped back and away, her hand immediately full of fire. Snow whipped around, bow raised against her shoulder.

"Stop!" Snow called out forcefully. "Or I'll drop you where you stand."

A brief rustle, then silence.

They fanned out, cautiously yet determinedly. Snow pointed with her bow towards a tree and they advanced on it.

"You're wearing a cloak and it's not hiding you very well," Snow called again. "Come out from behind that tree."

Regina closed her fist to extinguish the flames and waited.

After a brief moment of absolute silence, he emerged, sidling out and around the tree to face them, his hands high in surrender, his face imploring them for mercy.

_Average everything_, she considered, looking him up and down. _Neither soldier nor leader. And_ _completely expendable…_

"A scout," she said to Snow. She turned back to him and raised an eyebrow, lowering it at his brief nod. She took a step closer to speak with him. "Then you can tell us who you are working for and their location."

His mouth clamped shut.

Snow appeared beside her, bow and arrow still in hand, but lowered.

"We don't mean any harm," Snow said to him. "But, we cannot let you go. If you help us, we can assure your safety. You could work with us."

Regina turned her head sharply, away from Snow, and breathed in deeply, fighting the exasperation growing within. She knew a united front was the most effective method. But, honestly! Why was Snow's first reaction always appealing to goodness?

_Not everyone wants to sing Kumbaya around the fire, you twit._

She wasn't surprised when the man didn't even let out a peep. When she stared at him, she thought she caught sight of a smugness pass over his face. She looked at Snow, unimpressed.

Time to try another method. She stood tall and stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Just enough to start him wondering.

"If you think you're safe because we're women, I pity you," she said in a low voice. She felt a thrill rush through her at the first sign of hesitation in his eyes.

"Regina…" Snow warned.

She ignored the woman and took another step closer.

"She's right, we need your help." Another step. "And you'll give it. Whether it's willingly or not is entirely up to you." She felt the smile tug at the corners of her mouth and had a sudden desire to laugh out loud.

It was all so familiar.

"So, we'll start with something small…" She reached out and pulled Snow slowly backwards with one hand, maintaining eye contact with him all the time. "And if the answer is to our liking, we'll go a little bigger."

"Regina, don't…"

Her gaze locked on Snow, unaware her eyes had darkened and her smile appeared more as a sneer.

"Don't what, dear? Don't find the answers we need? Don't do the job your little council asked of me?"

"Your _job_ is to protect us," Snow said quietly. "Not to hurt anybody. This isn't the way…"

"Hmm." Regina narrowed her eyes. "Interesting that you assume I'm going to cause pain when I haven't yet done anything."

Snow shook her head, her expression…what was it? Concern? Anxiety?

"You've always been sure to let me know what you're capable of."

"Ah. So I _haven't_ changed that much after all," she replied, a cold rage lifting her shoulders higher. She felt the sneer, not the smile now. "You were merely paying lip service."

Snow moved closer.

"No! You _have_ changed and that's why this is wrong. This is all wrong! You don't have to choose this way. We need the Regina who saved us from Pan's curse. The one who fought for us. The one who loves Henry…"

She groaned at his name. Strangled and low. And shoved the thought of him down deep inside, added it to the grey swirling vortex of emotions buried there.

_No._

She wasn't going to be weakened by that anymore. She turned away from Snow and toward their captive. Pushed Snow's whining pleas out of her ears. Breathed in the cold harsh air, feeling the chill wrap around her lungs.

She advanced on the man.

"Just one small question to begin," she resumed, not looking away, not blinking as she approached closer and closer. "How many of you are there?" she whispered, almost nose to nose with him. The corners of her eyes crinkled in a mirthless smile as his eyes locked with hers, unable to look away.

His breath came in short bursts, his eyes wide with terror, the whites glowing in the dark. He shook his head.

"N-N-None," he stuttered. "J-J-just me."

She raised her hand and placed it against his chest. She pressed lightly.

"Do you know of the Evil Queen?" she asked softly, tapping on his chest with one finger. Counting out his heartbeat.

His already pale face drained whiter still and she felt his legs start to buckle under him. This was how it had been at the very height of her reign. All it had usually taken was a whisper, an invasion of space and thinly, _very_ thinly, veiled threats. Suggestions, really.

"She c-c-cast a curse on the r-r-realm…" he choked out, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

She smiled again. This was going to be easy.

"Yes," she whispered, leaning forward to speak into his ear, make his entire being feel her words. "And she took the hearts of her enemies…" She pressed harder on his chest to illustrate her point.

There seemed to be a strange roaring in her ears and she barely heard whatever terrified reply he'd stuttered out. For a moment, there was only her hand on his chest and the rapid hammering of his heart within her reach. His gasping breaths and pleading whimpers.

This, _this_ she knew. It was almost as if the thirty years had never passed, as if this was the way she had always been, even before. No young, naïve girl meeting her secret beau beneath the shade of a tree. No terrified, broken-hearted young woman lying on her back, fulfilling her duties as a wife and Queen. No controlling, determined Mayor. No lost and fallen mother, stumbling on a crumbling road to redemption.

Only this. Only her.

She had almost forgotten the blackness of this void…

"_Regina…"_

The voice was muffled, murmuring, as if it came from somewhere far away. She blinked and he came back into focus. Still pleading and whimpering like a wounded animal.

"Regina, stop."

She turned her head slightly and looked at the ground. She still felt his heart pounding beneath her hand.

"Regina, think of Henry. You're not this person anymore."

Against her will, she saw in her mind's eye the look he would give her. That look of disappointed hope, of fallen expectation. That expression of how he wished she could be better, _would_ be better. Her brow furrowed in anguish as the forest rushed back to her. Their captive came into focus.

Snow White's voice.

The ground under her feet.

The blackness of that void had gone. Replaced with the raw rock of emotion she'd been living with since Henry had gone from her sight. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, the hand on his chest curling into a fist. She turned her head back to look at him, her eyes so narrow as to be almost closed, her teeth clenched together in barely suppressed anger.

"You will tell me where they are," she hissed. "There will be no more chances."

His mouth opened and he spilled his secret. Both of them.

On hearing his answer, she stepped back several paces and her eyes began searching the clearing around them.

"Regina, are you…?"

_Stop asking if I'm ok! Of course I'm not ok!_

"I won't kill them and I won't take their hearts," she spat at the other woman. "But, do not get in my way!"

She glared at the trees, as if any one of them could be harbouring the fugitives. She made not even the smallest of moves, allowing only her eyes to drift over the scene. On reaching a thick clump of bushes ahead of her and to the right, she finally turned her head towards it.

She raised her arms and disappeared into the familiar purple cloud of smoke. Reappearing next to the bushes, she waited a moment to make sure, before…

"You can come out now." Her voice sounded hoarse, unnatural.

A brief moment of silence, then…

The two rushed out and away from her, just about climbing over each other in their attempt to get away.

She waved her arm and they froze, immobilised by her magic. Snow appeared at her side and she spoke, not looking at the other woman.

"It's done. You can bind them here, or I can move them back to the camp." She felt her energy draining fast, her chest caving in under the pressure. It was different now. After the black anger, there had always been more underneath. More to draw from, to keep her strong. Now, there was only the emptiness and a tenuous thread named _Henry._

She had to get away. Before she lost control completely and ended up screaming at a little boy again.

"Here is fine," Snow replied, a little breathily, "I don't want to cause a big panic."

She nodded absently and took a step forward.

"Call me when you're done. I'll secure them with magic too." She took another step and another, wondering if she could make it to the safety of a hiding spot behind a tree. She wasn't sure what she'd do when she got there.

When had she ever wanted to hide that part of herself?

_Only for Henry._

She didn't know how many steps she took. She sank down against the tree and covered her eyes with her hands. Was it still so easy? Was this the truest of her natures? Was it all she would ever be?

Was it just as well that Henry was no longer here to see her?

She uncovered her eyes, but left her hands against her cheeks and stared, unseeing, into the forest.

She hadn't wanted to be stopped. But, she had needed to be. If Snow hadn't spoken, she might have been too far gone. And then what?

The tenuous trust…gone.

The suspicions of the unmerry men…vindicated.

The light of a four-year-old boy's friendship…extinguished forever.

She had needed someone to stop her. She needed…

"You ok?"

She dropped her hands from her cheeks like they were on fire. She continued staring straight ahead as she felt Tinkerbell sit down next to her and lean her head back against the tree.

"You and Snow did well to capture those men."

Regina smiled bitterly.

"Indeed."

She felt the fairy's eyes bore into her.

"They're all still here, Regina. That means something."

She looked down to see Tinkerbell holding out a cup of water. After a moment's hesitation, she took the cup, immediately wincing to see the water shaking about in the cup.

It seemed to give everything away.

Her eyes burned and she closed them, tilting her head back until she felt the gentle bump of her head against the tree trunk. Then she felt the traitorous slide of a tear on her cheek, not having the energy to reach up and brush it away.

"Regina…?"

"I let him down," she whispered, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. "I kept promising him that I wouldn't. That I'd change. That I'd be the person he wanted me to be." She moved her head from side to side slowly and opened her eyes to stare up at the moonlit sky. "But, I failed. And he's not even here." She didn't know why she had opened her mouth at all. Hadn't even known what words were going to come out.

"Are you going to tell me to fly away like a little moth again?"

The question seemed to come from nowhere. She turned to Tinkerbell with a puzzled expression.

"What? No! I don't…"

"Are you going to pull your heart out of your chest and tell me again how dark it is?"

She shook her head wordlessly, wondering where this was going.

"Then, perhaps you can tell me something," Tinkerbell smiled softly. "And whatever you tell me, I'll keep it safe."

"What…? What should I tell you?" she croaked, her hands curling into fists.

"The truth. Tell me what you wanted to do to that scout," Tinkerbell whispered.

She swallowed hard. That wasn't such a secret. She gritted her teeth.

"I wanted to rip out his heart and crush it within my fingers. I wanted to watch him fall to the ground and die."

"Why didn't you?" the fairy asked.

She faltered.

"I-I don't know. Snow…"

"When did you ever do what Snow White wanted?"

Again, she hesitated.

"I think you recognised it, Regina." Tinkerbell leaned forward and took her hand, holding it lightly. "I think you remembered the goodness in yourself. The goodness you promised Henry. And then I don't think you wanted that man to die anymore."

She stared at Tinkerbell's fingers wrapped around her own. She wasn't so sure.

"I don't know what to do." The words were out before she could bite them back. She found herself holding her breath, waiting for the other woman to respond.

Tinkerbell squeezed her hand gently.

"Yes, you do," she said simply. "You don't give up."

Regina breathed in deeply and exhaled heavily.

"What are you doing here, Tinkerbell?" The question came out sharper than she'd intended.

The fairy smiled again.

"This time, Snow _did _send me. She thought you needed…a friend."

She couldn't bear to look at Tinkerbell. So, she stared up at the sky.

"I miss him," she whispered, her fingers tightening around her friend's. "I was better with him."

They sat, not speaking, for the rest of the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Thanks for your continued positive response. I must say, I find it hard to get a read on Regina's feelings about Snow. It's the relationship I would most like to see reach a satisfying conclusion on the show. **

**Robin will be back soon enough, in case you were wondering. It's all going to be quite tentative.**

**As for this chapter, I'm ready for a little light at the end of the tunnel…Hopefully you are too!**

Chapter 7

They wouldn't meet her eye.

They watched her come and go, were aware of her presence, said nothing hostile or rude.

But, they wouldn't meet her eye.

It hadn't been that way at breakfast. After her usual task of helping to prepare the meal, she'd sat alone, but for the brief time she'd been joined by Tinkerbell and then Snow. Nor had it been that way for the rest of the morning, when she'd gone back to do a quick trip around the barrier to check its strength, followed by a walk-by of their prisoners (they weren't going anywhere).

But, in the mid-afternoon lull, there had been a subtle change. She'd gathered up a few clothes to wash them in the river and by the time she'd washed and wrung them out, there was a small group of women a short distance away, washing their own clothes.

That had not happened before.

She'd gone back to her tent to drape them on the grass out in the sun and noticed a change. A tent had been set up not far from her own, where before there had been nothing but empty space. As she'd looked around, she had spotted a few women whom she knew were set up on the other side of the camp, sitting together, mending a tent and talking.

For weeks, she could have thrown a fireball through her small part of the camp and not hit anyone. Now, it felt…crowded?

"They were told you'd protect them."

She regarded the women as Snow came up to stand beside her.

"Is that so?" she replied softly.

She saw Snow nod out of the corner of her eye.

"Yes. I told them myself. They are under no illusions, Regina. They know there are forces at work beyond this camp, forces that may not be defeated without the kind of power you have. They…_we_…trust Robin's men with swords and bows. But, we trust _you_ with the rest."

Regina watched as a woman approached the new tent with her two children and ushered them inside, before ducking in herself.

"They want me to protect them, but they don't wish to look at me? I suppose that's to be expected." She ignored the slight pang. She was used to being hated.

"It's difficult for them to reconcile that the things they once knew about you are no longer true."

She huffed a slight laugh.

"The things that I've done are still their history," she replied, an edge to her voice. "And who I am may not be as unfamiliar as they think."

She felt Snow's fingers take hold of her elbow tentatively and tug, as if to turn her. She resisted, as she had always resisted when it came to this woman.

"If you're referring to last night, none of them knows anything. And it will stay that way. It doesn't have to matter. Tinkerbell has your back." Snow's mouth opened and she hesitated, before closing it again. Regina wondered if she was going to say _she _had her back too. She was torn at the thought.

She raised an eyebrow archly.

"A minder?"

Snow let go of her and shrugged.

"She's _your _friend. I don't think she'd appreciate being referred to as your babysitter. I was under the impression she considered herself more your equal."

"Yes," Regina replied softly, absently. "She is…my friend." She heard the surprise (wonder?) in her tone. When was the last time she had even entertained the thought of a friend? Not an ally, or an enemy dressed up as a friend, but an actual friend?

"And me, Regina?" Snow asked, catching her by surprise. "What am I?"

"Really, dear? You're asking me now? Have you forgotten what happened yesterday? If you recall, I asked you to leave me in peace."

"We both know it's not as simple as that. Not anymore," Snow replied, moving to face her. "Given the current situation and…what happened in Storybrooke, I thought we could at least come to an understanding. We've saved each other on more than one occasion recently. I know you didn't do it for me, but I don't believe it was meaningless."

Regina frowned.

"Why are you forcing this?" she asked irritatedly, stepping back. "We are not friends and I have not been your stepmother for many, many years." Her eyes flashed. "I think you're an idiot and you think I'm cruel. We have broken promises and have come close to killing each other more than once. There is far too much history…" Her lips twisted as though she were in pain. "The best we can do is I don't try to harm you and you don't shackle me up with the rest of the captives."

Snow smiled and she felt her frustration grow.

"Perhaps I'm just an opportunist, Regina. A hopeful opportunist who's no longer afraid of you. The fact that you and I are in charge says a lot, I think." She shrugged again and her smile faded. "I think we can work together, be civil, without the past affecting our ability to do that." She hesitated, as if unsure how her words would be received and a sudden sadness passed over her face. "I haven't…given up on you. There's something inside of me that just _can't_. I remember…even after everything, I remember you when it was just the two of us out on a hill with that horse, when you were just Regina and I was just Snow. And I thought you were the…" She pressed her lips closed and shrugged, shaking her head and turning away.

"What?" Regina asked, feeling something like morbid curiosity prompt the question. "What?" Her voice was low and sounded harsh to her ear.

Snow gazed into the distance, a wistful, far-off expression darkening her features.

"You gave me hope, Regina. When I was a girl without a mother and the future looked so…bleak, you just showed up and made me believe." She held up a hand as if to ward off Regina's inevitable objections. "I know how it turned out, I know all too well. The choices we both made after that, the things we said and did." She turned her eyes back to Regina. "But, I never felt that way again, not like I did _that_ day." Her eyes glistened. "Until you saved Henry and gave Emma the life she deserved."

Regina couldn't move. She couldn't speak. Something like resignation pressed down on her shoulders. The girl was like a dog with a bone. How sensible was it to still believe in her? After yesterday's debacle…

How right was Snow not to give up on her? She wasn't sure she even trusted herself.

"Why?" she found herself questioning, not for the first time. "We're not family."

"Aren't we?" Snow replied instantly. "I've heard both you and David say that we are."

She was starting to feel like a cornered animal. If there had been no one around, she would have…well, she would have done something, but she didn't want to scare the other women away. She was going soft. Yesterday, her hand had been inches from a man's heart. Today, she was seconds away from singing songs around a campfire.

"We can't…" She shook her head in frustration, unable to form a suitable response.

_I hate her. She ruined my life._

But, the words no longer filled her with the black strength they once had. They felt like a crutch. And not a very effective one at that. She couldn't hate the woman who had said goodbye to her own daughter. Had saved her from Greg Mendel. Had…

But…

"I can't forget," she whispered, almost to herself. _I can't let go._

"Nor can I," Snow replied. She reached forward and placed a hand on Regina's arm. "The things that happened can never be undone. I'm not saying forgiveness, Regina. Not yet. And I'm not saying friends either. But, we're here now, helping each other. We're doing a _good_ thing here. Together. Look me in the eye and tell me that means nothing to you."

And in the tiniest corner of her darkened heart, she couldn't.

* * *

She jolted awake, her eyes snapping open in the dark. She blinked rapidly, trying to force her eyes to get used to the blackness. It had taken a long time to fall asleep. She had found herself avoiding all company for the rest of that afternoon and into the evening, a task which had become increasingly difficult. Her mind had just been too full of…

Wrenching her mind away from dangerous thoughts, she strained her ears for unusual sounds.

What had awoken her? A shout of alarm? A disturbance in her magic? One of the nightmares which refused to go away?

Then she felt it.

A soft pressure on her foot, followed by a small jiggle of her toes.

"Regina?"

She cast her eyes down her body to her feet and gradually, her eyes made out the outline of a figure in the gloom. A small figure.

"Roland?" Her voice sounded croaky and half-asleep and she cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

Before he could speak, a great white flash filled the night sky, illuminating everything brilliantly for a brief moment before plunging them into darkness again. And then, just before the growling rumble of thunder surrounded them, she heard him sniffling.

She must have been out like a light to miss the oncoming storm.

"Are you alright?" She sat up and rested one arm behind her to support her weight. She brushed her messy hair from her face. "How did you find me in the dark?"

He cautiously crept forward and she slid her legs up and away from the entrance to her tent to make room for him. He sat at her feet, his legs curled up impossibly tight against his body, his shoulders hunched forward as if to shield himself.

A second flash lit up the world around them and he shuffled closer, reaching out to place a small hand on her leg.

She felt him shaking through the contact.

Any words she had been about to utter were lost when a violent crack and bang split the air above and around them. The boy threw himself forward and clung to her blanket-covered legs, burying his face against her knee. Still half-asleep, she reached out and gently placed a hand on his back, holding it there until the thunder had subsided. With her other hand, she grabbed for the spare blanket she was using as a pillow and draped it over his shivering form.

When all was quiet again, she increased the pressure at his back to address him.

"It's only a storm, Roland. Nothing bad is going to happen." She took hold of his shoulders and pushed upwards, encouraging him to sit up. He clutched the blanket around himself. "Where's…" She closed her eyes for a moment to think, but was unable to recall the name. "John's wife? Isn't she taking care of you?"

He sniffled again, letting go of her legs and clambering forward again, this time sitting next to her in the small space. She focused her eyes on the patch of ground he occupied and when the next brilliant lightning flash lit the night, she was able to see his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes wide, his face upturned to the roof of the tent. And when the thunder cracked like a building about to cave in, she felt him grip her arm and pull up, settling it around his body so he could squeeze himself under it.

She hadn't experienced a storm like this in years. Legends and myths surrounded the storms in the Enchanted Forest. Some believed it was witchcraft because of how fast the storms seemed to descend upon the land. Others that it was the gates of Hell about to unleash the dead upon the living. More superstitious still was the belief that the end of the world was imminent.

None of which she would share with this quivering four-year-old boy.

She tightened her arm around him momentarily.

"Hmm? Aren't they taking care of you?"

She felt him nod against her shoulder and curl himself tighter against her. She shifted her position to get a better grip, leaning her head down towards his.

"What is it?" she whispered and lifted her hand to shield his face as the next lightning bolt flashed.

Again, just before the thunder assaulted their ears, she heard his answer.

"I want Mother."

It was a rollercoaster. A series of peaks and troughs, throwing her around like a ragdoll. She'd never been a slave to any emotions but anger, fear and hate. But, now, all sorts were coming out of the woodwork. It was leaving her wrecked.

Her chest tightened and she squeezed her eyes shut at his plaintive, hopeless wish. He could pretend that her arms, her whispered comfort, her fingers stroking across his head were those of his mother. Just as she could pretend that the tiny body enfolded in her arms was that of her own son.

But, both wishes were illusions. And, for her, such an illusion would only drag her back down to the pit she'd been trying to drag herself out of. She needed to stop that before it happened.

If she fell in again, she might never emerge.

Regina unwrapped herself from around Roland and lifted his chin with her fingers.

"Come with me," she whispered.

He hesitated.

"Where are we going?" he asked fearfully.

"We're going to watch the storm."

Pulling herself up to her knees, she found his hand in the dark and tugged him up with her. She shuffled backwards out of the tent, pulling him to the entrance.

"I don't want to, Regina."

She could see him slightly better now that they were outside the tent and she placed a hand on each cheek. She smiled at him and he frowned in reply.

"Why are you smiling?" he asked, almost grumpily.

She stood and tugged him up by the hand, holding on tightly as she looked around for a vantage point. She clutched at two corners of her blanket which met just below her neck.

"Because there's nothing to be afraid of. Come on."

He grabbed her the moment the lightning returned and, to stop him running away, she lifted him up into her arms and carried him, the blanket now draped around them both. She whispered a spell to protect them from the elements and walked until they were a little away from the camp, but in a more open area.

She looked down at him and bounced the boy a little in her arms.

She thought about what she needed. She had been unable to finish that thought in so long. She'd needed to earn back this boy's friendship with a potato peel and a bit of skill. She'd needed someone to stand between her two warring selves with a gentle word and the reminder of a promise she would always be desperate to keep for her son. She'd needed the touch of someone's hand to keep her connected to this new self that seemed to be struggling to grow inside her.

And now? Right now?

She and this boy, this dear boy, needed to look up, up and away from the muck and the mire. Away from lost mothers and sons. To reach out and touch something outside themselves. Something that was bigger than either of them.

"Hey," she said. His face was still buried in her neck. "Hey," she said again. "Look."

Slowly, he turned towards her, dark shadows playing on his face. She jutted her chin upward to the sky.

"You're a brave boy, Roland. Look up and when the lightning comes, tell me everything you can see."

He looked doubtful and she smiled again.

"Go on," she squeezed her arms around him, determined for him to do this. She felt herself smile yet again when he looked up cautiously. "You know it's coming. And I'll protect us. Nothing to be scared of."

As if on cue, the sky exploded again and he flinched, but didn't look away. His eyes flitted about before the light faded. She waited for the thunder to roll around and about.

"Well?" she asked. "What did you see?"

After a moment's pause, he reached up with his arm and pointed.

"Birds. There were birds over there."

"Birds?" she played along. "Probably looking for somewhere to shelter when the rain comes." She adjusted her grip on the boy. "Alright. Next time, I want you to find something else and I'll count the time between the lightning and thunder. Then we'll know how close the storm is."

And he did. For the next ten minutes, they stood together in the storm, the lightning acting as their spotlight, the thunder as their clock. By the time they felt the first patterings of rain, Roland was out of her arms and running around her, calling out and pointing this way and that.

The wind picked up, whipping her hair around her face and causing the blanket to flap about her. She felt caught in a whirlwind, not the heavy dark vortex of a curse whisking her away to the dark unknown. No, this was nature, fierce and relentless, yet it would leave her standing when it had spun itself out.

Opening her eyes, she spotted the boy twirling around, buffeted this way and that by the increasing gale. And as the sky lit up again, she saw his mouth open in a squeal of delight as the raindrops grew fatter and more frequent.

She didn't even realise it until it was happening.

For the first time since she didn't know when, something strange and impossible happened.

Regina laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Thanks, as always, for reading and hopefully enjoying. Is the hiatus over yet?**

Chapter 8

By the third night, she had actually been allowed to sleep right through. And so, it was with a surprising lack of heaviness in her head and chest that she emerged from her tent that morning. The sun was weak, but bright, and she closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation of it on her face.

She filled her lungs with the chill morning air, before walking over to the firepit. Someone had already lit a fire, so she stoked it and then looked around for the small tin that kept a supply of tea leaves.

What she wouldn't give for her coffee machine right about now.

It was only once she'd found the tin that she realised she'd left her cup behind. Rolling her eyes in impatience, she made the trip back to her tent. After rooting around for a moment, she found it. She returned to the fire and stopped short.

She had entertained rooms full of royalty. She had overseen executions, participated in torture, stood unmoved in the face of outraged villagers spewing hate. She had smoothly manipulated smarmy sycophants and endured insufferable gatherings of libertines.

This small group of women sitting by a fire should have been nothing. It should have taken little effort for her to sit down barely metres from them, feeling their eyes on her the whole time. Lifting her head to look them in the eye should not have caused a crippling wave of...dread...to pass through her.

And she shouldn't have been stunned motionless when one of them stood and held out a hand.

The silence stretched for miles.

"Your Majesty?"

She stared at the hand as if it might suddenly slap her.

"You would like some tea, I think, Your Majesty?" the woman said.

Regina was hardly aware of her arm lifting, her hand reaching out to place the cup in the woman's hand. She stared, almost spellbound, as the woman filled her cup with hot water and brewed some tea. She couldn't for the life of her remember the last time anyone had done anything like this for her. Willingly, anyway. Twenty-eight years of an enforced curse didn't count. And the years of servants before that didn't count either.

It was Henry.

In the years before The Book, he had made her breakfast in bed a few times. Burnt toast and bitter coffee, which she had received joyfully and enjoyed every bite, every mouthful. She had, of course, washed it down with orange juice immediately after, but the smile would usually stay on her face for hours after.

And it was with that pang of _missing_ that Regina was beginning to understand just how long it had been since some things had happened. In a long ago place that was almost forgotten. For her, nothing had ever been done, nothing ever given, without stipulation. Without condition.

And here and now, she might even have allowed her old nature to err on the side of suspicion if not for...

The woman's hands were shaking.

She was carefully removing the tea leaves from Regina's cup. And her hands were shaking.

Regina regarded the woman. Should she relieve her of the duty? Tell her to forget it? Put her out of the misery of what was so clearly an arduous task? But, then the woman was stepping around the fire and holding the cup out to her and Regina saw the smile. Tiny, but hopeful.

She accepted the cup with a brief smile that felt more like a wince.

"Thank you." Had her voice caught at the end?

The woman nodded and moved quickly back to her group, leaving Regina to stare into her cup wonderingly. She heard a noise to her right and looked up.

Tinkerbell smiled at her, eyebrows raised knowingly. She had obviously been taking expression lessons from Snow White.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her tea. Still, she couldn't deny that small part of her that suddenly felt warm from the inside out.

"Regina? Regina!"

Of course it wouldn't last.

She turned her head to watch Snow weave her way between the tents. There was something in her voice, the look in her eye...

"What is it?" she asked, rising immediately, her eyes darting to the group of women, then back to Snow.

Snow hesitated, clearly reluctant to speak in front of the women.

"Spit it out!" she demanded. "Whatever it is, they'll find out soon enough."

Snow nodded.

"Someone's attacked the barrier," she said.

* * *

"Where?"

At Snow's pointed finger, Regina stalked toward the barrier, _her_ barrier, and passed through it, all but announcing herself to any intruders.

Subtlety had never been one of her strengths.

The woods were still and quiet.

_Too still._

She turned to face Snow and Tinkerbell. Glared at them both. For once, she hoped they knew the difference in this glare.

"I know this might be difficult for you to do, but _listen._" She stabbed her finger to the invisible magic between them. "Nobody comes through that barrier, do you understand me? Nobody, not even the two of you. _I_ will handle this."

She stared at them fiercely until they both nodded. She backed away, then turned, again walking forward until she was out of their sight, yet still offered some cover by the trees.

They wouldn't be scouts. Not again. And the previous scouts hadn't returned to their leader. So...

There would be more this time. And if, for some reason, David and Robin's party had failed to push back the Witch's soldiers...

They came at her from the left.

Their bellows, instead of frightening her, simply made it easier for her to locate their exact position. She waved her arm and flung them back, stunning them. Winding them. But, not actually hurting them. Not really.

She bowed her head, listening.

Predictably, they came from the right. One held a crossbow, which she wrenched through the air and crushed to dust. She again waved her hand, this time freezing them all in place.

That left an attack from the front and a possible regathering of strength from the ones on the left. She lifted her hands, palms out, ready for the next wave.

A movement in the corner of her right eye...

She turned her head and saw it coming.

She saw the moment the arrow left the bow and seemed to come at her in slow motion. She heard the _whoosh_ slicing through the air.

But, there was barely time to react.

Time to lift her hand.

Time to whip her head to the side.

In time to feel the stinging of the arrowhead slice across her cheek. It felt more like a giant papercut than anything else. And then it _burned_ and she felt the skin split open and irritating little droplets of blood spurt out and trickle down towards her jaw.

Regina bent over slightly, staring at the ground determined not to fall to one knee, still a little in shock as to how one of them had got through her defences. She raised a hand to the wound and pulled away fingertips stained a vibrant red. She stared at the blood for a moment, rubbing her thumb across it, before letting her eyes drift up toward the culprit, who stood frozen by his own shock. Waiting.

Waiting for her to move.

That was foolish.

Her lips slowly curved up into a malicious smile. She supposed it made her look even more imposing with the blood that now felt like it was pouring in steady streams down her face.

Surely, they wouldn't have a problem if she defended herself? She was standing here with her face sliced open! They couldn't begrudge her a little retaliation.

Tinkerbell.

Snow.

All of them.

"Thank you," she said softly, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

The archer's brow furrowed a little in confusion.

"You just made it very easy for me," she continued, opening her hand and conjuring fire.

The archer's eyes widened and then everything happened very quickly. He stiffened, reaching behind him to wrench an arrow from his quiver.

She loosed the ball of fire from her hand and sent it sailing towards him. He ducked, avoiding the flames, but it had been a little off-target anyway.

She blinked as her eyes blurred and one figure became two. She sneered, opening her hand again as he fitted the arrow into the bow and pulled it back. She pulled her arm back, preparing to throw, but the small thud she heard caused her to freeze. Her vision cleared and she stared at the archer.

The arrow dropped harmlessly to the ground in front of him. His jaw relaxed and his mouth fell open partially. His legs buckled and then he was on the ground, face-down.

Which was when she saw the dagger sticking out of his back.

She raised her eyes as rustling sounded from somewhere beyond her sight. She readied her arm, the fire crackling within her hand and glared in the direction of the noises.

Rustling quickly turned to footsteps, turned to shadows moving toward her.

She took a step forward...

"It's us," a low voice said. David appeared from behind a tree and she was surprised (irritated?) at the almost instant relief she felt at the familiar face. She allowed her face to betray none of this, however, and soon David was joined by John and some of the unmerry men.

None of them looked pleased to see her.

What else was new?

"You were supposed to stay within the camp, behind the shield you created," John said gruffly. "What are you doing out here?"

She cut him down with a withering glance.

_Oh, I don't know, saving your wife and children, you ungrateful brute_.

"Regina, are you alright?" David asked suddenly.

It was then that she became aware that her breath was going in and coming out in short, sharp pants, loud in the sudden quiet of the group. Her cheek and neck felt slimy and wet and the wound itself stabbed and burned with a thousand gleaming pinpricks.

She was standing in the shadow of the trees and still quite a distance from them.

They couldn't see it. Her injury. She turned her head so that the wounded side of her face was away from them.

"If you m-must know, I was merely making sure none of those thugs had the chance to try getting past my shield." She heard her own voice falter slightly as the movement caused by her speech irritated the gash on her face. "Your families are still perfectly well and safe, thanks to me. Speak to Snow White if my word is not enough."

She turned and headed toward the line of trees leading to the river, ignoring David as he called after her. As she approached the path, she almost collided with a solid form. Her head jerked up and her eyes met Robin's. She veered away from him, intent on her destination, but he reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her there.

"Unhand me," she said softly, warningly. She was coiled like a spring, just waiting for an opportunity to unleash onto someone.

Even if that someone was the father of her young friend.

He said nothing, his eyes running over her face. His head tilted slightly to take in the jagged line and the blood now dribbling from it.

"Your Majesty..."

The words rubbed at all the raw places within her and she hissed in a breath. She ripped her arm from his grasp and stepped to the side.

"Regina!" she spoke through clenched teeth. "Regina."

She stormed on, only stumbling a little as everything around her went a little hazy. She forced herself forward, reaching out to hold herself up against each tree as she passed.

The river.

And solitude.

She allowed herself a shaky breath and a small droop in her posture. Her whole head was starting to hurt. She slowed as she walked towards the water's edge and sank before it, her knees digging into the sand. Slowly, painfully, she leaned forward, putting out her arms and resting on them, her head hung low, her eyes closed. She concentrated on simply breathing for long minutes at the water's edge.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been out here.

"Regina?"

She jolted, completely unaware of Tinkerbell's approach. She frowned. She hadn't heard a _thing_. Which must mean...

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't fly up behind me," she said, her voice low and husky. She didn't look up.

"I'm sorry. They said you might be injured, so I came quickly," Tinkerbell replied and this time Regina heard her moving closer. "Can I...?"

"I'm perfectly capable of tending to my wounds, dear," she bit back. "I would simply prefer to be alone when I use magic to do it."

There was a brief silence.

"Are you sure?" Tinkerbell said and she heard the doubt in the fairy's voice.

She heaved a deep sigh, recalling her words to Snow. Words she had meant.

_She is...my friend._

"Yes," she said calmly. "I'm fine. I just...I'd like to alone for awhile. Please."

Her chest unclenched in relief as she heard Tinkerbell move away.

"Don't be too long," the fairy called out softly. "They're worried."

When she turned her head, Tinkerbell was gone and she exhaled heavily. She wondered briefly who _they_ were.

Sitting back on her legs, Regina reached up and touched her cheek gently, pushing against the soft skin. She grimaced at the sensation. Once again checking there was no one around, she crawled forward a few feet until she was able to dip her hand into the cool water.

Except her hand wasn't enough.

She felt in her pocket and pulled out her handkerchief, soaking it in the water. Then she began to wash the blood away. First, her neck (she was going to have a hell of a time getting the blood out of the collar of the dress), then her jaw and chin. Finally, she tackled the wound itself, which had by now almost stopped bleeding. The handkerchief would be stained beyond repair by the time she was finished.

After the blood had been washed away, she softly prodded the gash again. It felt like a good two and a half or three inches long, just under her cheekbone.

It was too big.

She couldn't heal it. Not like this. Not all at once.

Ability to heal had never been her strong suit. Consequently, all previous attempts to heal various ailments and injuries had resulted in crippling exhaustion and an ache that didn't dissipate for days. She had learned, over time, that healing little by little made it a little easier. A little more manageable.

Pity she didn't have that luxury.

This time, she heard the footsteps approaching. She huffed in irritation. The woman couldn't take a hint.

"I said I wanted to be alone, Tinkerbell! Clearly, I overestimated your ability to listen."

A clearing of the throat told her it wasn't the fairy standing behind her.

She gathered herself momentarily, before rising gracefully to her feet and turning around, lifting her chin haughtily. Well, it would've been haughty but for the dirty great gash marring her features. She looked her new companion up and down, before zeroing in on their hand at their side. More specifically, the things they were holding. She raised an eyebrow.

"I assume you're on your way to attend to one of your injured men," she said, her tone indifferent.

Robin held her gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"I can easily yield to your request to call you by name, Regina, but referring to you as one of my 'men'...?" He took a step forward, his mouth twisting up into a strange, crooked not-quite smile. "Well, that I would not dare to do." His gaze moved to her cheek and he held up the hand which held the items.

She stared at him unflinchingly.

"You are not using that on me."

He appeared unmoved by her tone.

"Your wound is deep and looks painful. You've done well to clean it, but it needs stitches. My needle has been sanitised in the fire and I am the best of the camp at stitching wounds."

She bent down to pick up her bloodied, wet handkerchief.

"Your...talents... are quite wasted here, I assure you. I shall heal this myself without need of such barbaric instruments." The dismissal in her tone was apparent.

Any mirth in his expression disappeared at her words.

"You will use magic?" he asked cautiously. He looked down at her hands.

"Yes," she replied in exasperation. She gestured to the treeline. "Now, I would be very grateful if you would leave me in peace!"

He didn't move. She felt her frustration grow. Her eyes widened when, instead of obeying her, he lowered himself onto the sand and rested an elbow on his knee.

"What are you doing?"

He jutted his chin towards her.

"Show me. Show me how you heal yourself."

She swallowed, feeling the situation tilt on its head, out of her control.

"I thought you didn't like magic," she taunted, recalling Roland's words before the men had left. She had to stall him somehow, get him up and away. There was no way she would admit to him that she couldn't heal this herself.

He lifted his hands in a gesture of supplication.

"That's no secret. But, considering what we may be up against, if there's a...better way...to heal, then I am not so stubborn as to dismiss it outright."

She bristled at the pointed way he looked at her. Then she frowned, suddenly realising the implications of the party's return.

"Why? What happened?" she demanded, stepping toward him. "Did you stop the ambushes? Did this..._witch _make an appearance?"

Robin shook his head.

"No, the Witch has yet to be seen. But, we had several skirmishes with her soldiers and more are joining even as we speak. It's why we returned so quickly. We need to formulate a new plan. We are holding another meeting in an hour." He lifted his hand. "It would be wise for me to ask if you would again join us." He gestured to her face. "After, of course, you have healed yourself."

She stiffened, glaring at him.

"Then, by all means, return to camp and I will indeed join you."

A hint of amusement crept into his gaze.

"Is there some reason you are stalling, Regina?" He leaned back on one arm. "From all reports I've heard, you have never been one to hide your magic. Quite the opposite. Yet, you seem rather reluctant to use it now."

She turned her head away and moved to face the river. She stared, unseeing, out at the dark water.

_We'll see about that, Hood._

She whirled around to face him again. He had stood up and was now watching her intently. She raised a hand and held it barely an inch from her injury. She took a steadying breath, not taking her eyes away from his, and pulled the magic from the deepest parts of herself into her hand. She felt the warmth, could see the glow from the corner of her eye. She suppressed a smirk.

Her hand began shaking less than a minute after she started. She clenched her jaw, trying to still it by sheer will. As her vision began to fray around the edges, she dropped her eyes, unable to continue gazing at him triumphantly when she wasn't feeling quite so triumphant anymore. She became aware that she needed more oxygen than she was getting and opened her mouth, her chin quivering from the effort of holding herself upright.

If she wasn't careful, her legs would be the next to...

"Alright, enough. Enough, Regina!" Robin stepped forward and grabbed her hand, pulling it down and away from her cheek. He pulled her forcibly away from the water's edge and took hold of her shoulders, pushing her to sit in the sand.

"Don't touch me!" she spat, shrugging him off and sinking onto the sand. She reached up and touched her cheek gingerly. To her disgust, the wound felt no better than before.

"Here." He thrust a small flask at her. "Start drinking."

She looked at the flask incredulously.

"Excuse me?"

He nodded at the flask.

"It's a large wound and though I may be the best, not even I can mask the pain of the needle. So, I suggest you drink up."

She scoffed and smiled mirthlessly.

"I think I can manage to numb the area," she replied sarcastically and waved her hand over her face, weaving the quick spell. If only knitting together flesh was so effortless. In the back of her mind, a niggling voice reminded her that she hadn't actually agreed to let him stitch her up.

But, his hand was already reaching for her.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N 1 I have used a line which I think comes from 2x22**

**A/N Thanks for reading :)**

Chapter 9

Her eyes were fixed on a point as far away from him as her vision would allow. He said nothing and she barely felt his fingers as they worked against her face. At times, he would touch her other cheek to move her, or push gently at her chin to tilt her head up. Occasionally, she felt a pressure from the needle as it pierced her skin, but her spell prevented the pain from registering. She would have to apply the spell again if she didn't want her face to throb unbearably for the next week.

Apart from that, she moved not a muscle. And all this outside immovability meant that her insides were churning.

She was boiling.

The immediate problem was being dealt with, courtesy of an outlaw with delicate needle skills. But, she was furious at the way he had..._manhandled_ her. 'The best' indeed. She was half-inclined to turn him into something hideous should she be left with an ugly scar.

Now, that left everything else. And the cloud over her head was clearing fast. Leaving her anger free to reign, to drown out any other voices that might be urging her to listen. She felt humiliated that Robin should see her weakness, frustrated that John should continue to be suspicious of her, uneasy at the kind of enforced detente newly formed between herself and Snow.

She seemed to have control over nothing!

She knew anger and fear. She could deal with anger and fear. Especially if she was the one dealing it out.

This was something else they were pushing at her. Shared vulnerability. Trust. Standards. Standards _they _were the ones to determine and if she didn't pass muster...

Well, she wasn't someone's pet, getting a pat on the head and a treat for good behaviour. And she didn't trust any of them, well, save Tinkerbell perhaps.

She could feel herself pushing back.

"Done."

She started at Robin's quiet declaration and her eyes darted towards his. She pulled her head back slightly, suddenly very aware of how close they were to each other. His calm, thoughtful gaze irritated her.

"What?" she snapped, too caught up in her own frustration to be grateful.

He said nothing for a long moment, merely stared at her.

"I would ask you what you were thinking about just now, but from the look on your face, I rather think I'd prefer not to know," he said eventually. There was something in his voice, something she almost didn't recognise...

She moved away from him and rose to her feet.

"Then, don't ask," she retorted and turned on her heel, making her way back toward the camp.

"Regina!"

Something in his voice stopped her, but she didn't turn.

"Whatever it was, don't betray the faith my son has placed in you."

She continued walking.

* * *

"They'll be here within a day, perhaps two if we're lucky."

There was silence as everyone considered David's words.

"And there's no chance of us fighting them off?" Snow asked. "Forcing them back?"

Robin wiped at the perspiration on his forehead, shaking his head.

"Not a chance. There are far too many of them now for our small group. We barely got away as it was. We need to find a place to regroup, send out a message across the realm. Call for aid. Once we have numbers, we can organise. Until then, we're scattered and we're out here in the open."

John thudded the ground with his staff in agreement.

She listened. Listened as they made foolish plans, put forward nonsense ideas. She wanted to laugh at them, ridicule them, scorn them. They had no interest in asking her what she thought. Assumed that any suggestion she made was going to bring hell-fire raining down on them. They were simply going to cobble together some destined-to-fail notion and expect her to go along with whatever it was.

She was tired of listening. Tired of everything. Tired.

"Let me at them and we won't have to stand around here flapping about like idiots," she said loudly. Coldly.

John met her with a glare she supposed was meant to silence her.

"We don't need a slaughter," he growled.

She stepped forward.

"What we _need _is to force them back," she replied. "Send a message to this Witch that this is what will happen if she sets foot in this land. Get rid of her army and she'll have little left to make an attack."

"No," David interjected. He waved his hand toward the campsite. "We have too many children here. They would be sitting ducks if the Witch's forces found us here. Robin's right. We need to concentrate on escaping, making sure everyone is safe."

"So, we get the women and children out," Snow suggested. "Tonight." She looked around at the group. "After dark, we make for the other side of the valley."

Robin nodded.

"There's a forest just beyond. It's full of superstitions and people rarely venture in. We've hidden there many times, left tricks and traps that deter most from going any further than the very edges. My men and I will form a rearguard and leave a day behind you. Sabotage any efforts to follow you. And hopefully meet you there."

Tinkerbell nodded.

"I can fly overhead, keep watch from the air, make sure no one comes at you from another side."

Snow smiled at her.

"I will lead them. I'll have a few of the stronger women help me with the children. And Regina. I want you to come with me. We still need your protection."

She stared at Snow impassively. Her magic, but only when it suited them.

"Thank you, but I think I'll use my skills elsewhere. With my magic, this pathetic army will be laid waste in minutes."

"No." Robin's tone was firm. "We are defending ourselves if necessary, not taking part in a massacre."

She sneered, throwing her hands in the air.

"And if they get past you, it will be a massacre anyway. Evil doesn't play fair."

"You'd know that best, wouldn't you, Your Majesty?" John barked.

Snow held up her hands.

"Stop! This is getting us nowhere." She turned to Regina. "The children are defenceless. They need you more than Robin's men do. Please come with us. Henry would..."

"Stop using my son against me!" she hissed, taking a step forward.

David met her.

"Use some self-control and we won't have to keep reminding you to," he snapped back.

She laughed, outraged and infuriated.

"Self-control? I have exercised nothing _but_ self-control since we got here!" She felt her face twist into its ugliest version. "I lost my son and I wanted to rip the world apart, but as you see, the world is still very much intact," she spat, her words dripping. "I've gone along with all of your little efforts to work with that group of brigands." She waved at the unmerry men. "I spill blood for them and they question me!" She glowered at David and Snow.

Tinkerbell stepped forward calmly.

"You want to go and tear the Witch's army limb from limb? Nobody here can actually stop you from doing that."

She smiled, twisted and bitter, though she felt no joy.

"That's right," she replied belligerently.

Tinkerbell gazed at her levelly.

"Then what happens to the _children_ if even a few of the army gets through? You said yourself there'd be a massacre."

It was as if all the air and sound had been sucked up in a vacuum and removed from the clearing. The entire group's gaze was fixed on her. She imagined they were holding their collective breaths, dreading her response.

_Let the children fend for themselves..._

_You protect them. They are not my responsibility..._

_There is always collateral damage in a war._..

But, that was before. That was in the days when she sent children into a witch's house to steal apples. When she removed children from their parents for her own personal gain.

Before every child had Henry's face.

"_I don't want to lose anyone else."_

His words had forced them all to work together. She hadn't heard him, not at first. Not when Emma Swan had come into their lives and taken everything away from her. When he had been so against her, knowing her true nature and pulled away from her no matter how tightly she had tried to hold on. When she had listened only to herself. _Her_ desires. _Her_ needs.

When had he started believing in her? When had his voice become the one she listened for?

Who was she supposed to listen to now that he was gone? It was camping in Neverland all over again. Everyone fighting against her every instinct to destroy to get what she wanted. Except now the end result wouldn't be a wonderful reunion with her son. The end result was...nothing for her.

Nothing.

She clenched her teeth and whirled away from the circle, stalking to who knew where. She lifted her arm and made a fist, jerking it back through the air. She heard a satisfying _crack_ and some startled cries as a tree was yanked away from its roots and tumbled to the ground somewhere behind her.

She cursed as she stormed between the trees, whacking her arms at low lying branches, her breath coming out heavily. She hadn't even really been aware of how fast that had escalated.

They heard her speaking, but refused to listen to a word she said. She was angry, so angry at everything, but her anger felt brittle and then she was just tired and unhappy. She wasn't the Evil Queen anymore, she knew that. But, this current version of herself? She didn't know who that was. One minute threatening to tear out hearts, the next dancing around in a storm. First protecting, then wanting to cut down. She was a mish-mash of all parts of herself thrown together, none of them fitting nicely, all of them fighting each other.

She didn't like this. Didn't like _her._

_Was this what 'being good' meant?_ she scoffed to herself. She threw herself down onto the grass and leaned back against a tree.

She stared up at the sky as she felt her eyes sting. No sense in holding them back. No sense in holding any part of herself back. Was there? She was tired of this conversation with herself. It went nowhere. Solved nothing. Left her in exactly the same place. Only more and more frustrated.

Now what?

What could anyone do if she wanted to destroy the world? (If she even wanted to.)

In another life, she might even have sought this Witch out, joined with her, seen what she could get out of her. Or taken their captured scouts and manipulated them into doing her bidding.

She had always had a reason for that, though. Her revenge.

Now there was no _reason_.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she dropped her head to her knees and rubbed a hand over her chest.

_I just want to be happy. Forget everything else and be happy._

It seemed further away than ever. Now, she felt like a tornado, one moment calm and quiet, having spun itself out, the next whipped up into a wild gale.

And always alone.

"Giddy-up, giddy-up."

Her eyes flew open at the voice. She lifted her head and quickly reached up to wipe her eyes and cheeks, ridding them of the evidence of her distress. She turned her head, looking for the now-familiar dark curls.

"Roland?" she called out.

His head peeked out from behind a tree and his face broke into a grin.

"Hi Regina!" He stepped toward her, half skipping, before coming to a stop in front of her. His smile faded almost immediately. He sensed the darkness around her.

"Roland, you shouldn't be out here. It's not safe." She hadn't forgotten how curious and adventurous a young boy could be.

_Who the hell is supposed to be keeping an eye on him?_

He frowned and then his eyes widened, looking fearful. He reached forward and his fingers hovered centimetres from the cut on her face.

"Regina, who hurt you?"

She exhaled at the plaintive question, letting out a shuddering breath.

"Was it the bad people?"

She furrowed her brow and bit her lip, wondering how much Robin had told him about the 'bad people.' After a moment, she nodded.

"Yes, but we're going to make sure they don't hurt anyone else. Alright?" She lifted her hand and fisted the front of his shirt, shaking it gently. "Certainly not brave little boys like you."

"Why did the bad people hurt you, Regina?" he asked.

She pulled her hand away and placed it on her knee. Again, calmed herself and arranged her words to fit this small boy. She had already seen the results of her lack of control around him.

"I tried to stop them coming into our camp. One of them was sneaking around and...surprised me." She gave a small smile to reassure him.

"Did you use magic?" he asked with wide eyes. "Papa says you use magic to take care of us."

She debated what to tell him. He was so young, he couldn't possibly understand what 'using magic' actually meant, though he knew his father didn't like it. Her lips twisted into a wry smile, wondering if he would ever find out about all the things she had done.

He'd probably run away from her, just like everyone else. She certainly wouldn't be his angel anymore.

And she wouldn't be his angel if she left him to fend for himself out there. Or if she stayed here and showed the enemy what she was capable of. She would be the demon everyone would warn him about.

"Regina?"

She blinked and focused her eyes on him.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, Roland?"

"If you're taking care of us, who's taking care of you?"

...?

...?

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

For a moment, the walls around her heart utterly dissolved.

She tried shaping her lips into another smile of reassurance, but they wouldn't cooperate. To her horror, her eyes wouldn't cooperate either and she felt them fill until she couldn't see his face anymore.

He had laid her bare with one innocent question, a question to which she could give him no answer. Couldn't possibly unload her burdens on someone whose sweetness and light would only be forever tainted by them. Burdens he would never comprehend. And she would give anything for him to never have to experience anything like them.

The sunken hole in her chest suddenly felt cavernous.

She swallowed, barely, past the thick knot in her throat. Tried to think of some words to say, but they were all used up.

"..." Whatever words she had been trying to say came out as nothing but strangled. Since when had such desperate, pathetic whimpers escaped her lips?

Near-execution and imprisonment hadn't done it.

Banishment hadn't done it.

Kidnapping and torture hadn't done it.

No, the thing that undid her were a small boy's soft arms winding their way around her shoulders and a warm nose pressed into her neck.

_One minute_, she told herself. _Just one minute_ _and then I'll stop_.

So, for one minute, just one minute, Regina wrapped her arms around him and shook within his embrace.

* * *

They were still there when she returned, huddled close in a circle, finalising the details of their plan. At her approach, their heads lifted, their gazes grew watchful. She supposed that after her uprooting of the tree, that was to be expected.

She let her gaze drift over each of them, her eyes never wavering.

"I will go with the women and children," she said. She saw the beginnings of a smile on Snow's face and her jaw set. "But, know this. If we are ambushed, if this...Witch's...soldiers try to attack us...?" She paused to let the true impact of her words sink in. "I won't let them live."

She walked away before any of them could reply.

**A/N You know she's going to blow before the end of this story, right? The question is what will happen to cause it? **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N Thanks, as always, for reading. And it's always good if you enjoy it too :)**

**A/N 2 I've used one of Regina's lines from 'Good Form' here. She has been pretty funny this season...**

Chapter 10

Snow ran a hand over the child's cheek, watching for any signs of awakening. The child's chest rose and fell in peaceful slumber.

"That's the last one," she said to Regina and Tinkerbell. They all sat back and relaxed visibly.

Regina stood up from where the three of them had been kneeling, her hand unconsciously reaching up to touch her wound. She had had no opportunity to begin the long process of healing it completely, merely a quick re-weaving of the spell to keep any pain at bay. She needed a clear mind, not one drained of energy.

The moment she had agreed to be part of the exodus, they had all been constantly moving, preparing. Though it wasn't a terribly large group, there were still provisions to be gathered, people to inform and instruct, things to finalise.

One problem was the children themselves.

What if any of them were to wake up during the journey? What if one of the babies was to begin crying? Their plan relied on stealth and quiet as much as possible. Children were probably the least likely to give them that.

So, she had suggested a sleeping spell. Had almost thought twice about it. Almost. But, when had she ever really been able to restrain herself when it came to magic? Exiling them all to a land without didn't count. Anyway, she didn't fear their reactions. Outrage, anger, disgust, indifference-she had seen it all. Perhaps, in a way, she was testing them. Never quite wanting to do things the way they would want. Sometimes even providing incontrovertible evidence that she was not so much further down the dark path than they. That their self-righteousness rendered them unable to see the grey.

Of course, a couple of Robin's men had assumed she meant a curse. She had merely smiled lazily at them.

"_If I had meant a curse, dear, I would be sure not to waste it on the children. And I'm all out of apples." _

They had shut up after that. Her satisfaction had inched up a notch. She really did enjoy the opportunity to be smug. And that had nothing to do with being evil.

Surprisingly, David was the first one to speak up in favour of her suggestion.

"_We used that in Neverland. It had no ill effects on the Lost Boys." _

_We used that. _

_We. _

She had inwardly scoffed at his use of the collective term. There had been no _we_ about it. As if he'd done anything in that place except bumble about, get poisoned and then try to keep quiet about it.

Though being a complete idiot was busy work.

It had taken only a brief discussion and a detailed explanation of what the spell entailed before they agreed that she would put all the children under a sleeping spell just before they left. Hopefully, by the time it wore off, they would be at a safe distance from their pursuers.

"Are you ok?"

Regina inwardly rolled her eyes. It was like a broken record. Or the woman's default method of engaging her.

"I mean your face," Snow rushed to explain. "Robin told us you cleaned it and he stitched it, but we still don't even know what happened back there."

She faced Snow squarely. The woman's eyes were wide and sincere. She tried not to see the genuine concern there. It stirred up unpleasantly confusing thoughts. She frowned when Tinkerbell joined them and all but matched the look.

_If you're looking after us, who's looking after you? _

She remembered the way Roland's tiny body had pressed against her, warm and comforting. (There had been a time when Henry had done that, crawling into bed sometimes on a Saturday morning or after a nightmare.) For that one minute of pressing her arms around him, she had been reminded of just how...nice...it was to have a person close.

It had been so long since she'd had something nice without it being ripped from her. So long since she'd even wanted something nice. Destroyers of lives didn't get nice. They got black madness. They threw away everything sweet and beautiful and repressed it with cruelty and sickness...Or so the world said.

"I'm fine!" she said to them firmly, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "One of them got through and surprised me. That's all. It won't happen twice."

Tinkerbell leaned forward and handed her a pack of provisions.

"Thank you," the fairy said simply, her wide eyes warm. "For protecting us, I mean. You put yourself in danger for us."

"Not for the first time," Snow added with the barest hint of a smile. "We see it, Regina, even if you don't."

"Don't..." _Don't thank me. I didn't do it for you._ But, the words died on her lips. _But, I suppose I did, didn't I? _

Before Snow had come to warn her someone had attacked her barrier, she had been sitting with a group of women. She had been practically basking in the simple act of being served a cup of tea. Felt inexplicably warm. Then, she had run to the barrier without a second thought. Told Snow and Tinkerbell not to follow her, without a second thought. In fact, her only real thought had been not to let the enemy through.

Protect.

She swallowed at the realisation.

She didn't want them to die. Any of them. She would feel true _regret_ if death came for them, a burden she had assured Pan she didn't feel for all the murder and ruin she'd imparted. But, here and now, she did. Even for her life-long enemy. Not sorrow, save perhaps Roland and Tinkerbell. Her friends. Roland needed to outlive his childhood at least. Needed to become a strong, wise man with a family and live a life. And Tinkerbell? Well, she needed to live to be the fairy she had begun to be all those years ago. Regina wanted her to have a chance.

Why now? Had she changed so much? Had what she'd begun in Neverland and at the end in Storybrooke really begun to define who she was becoming? None of the pieces of herself fit together yet. But, were they close? Were they arranging themselves into some kind of recognisable picture? Could the darkness really fit together with whatever light seemed to be emerging?

Still, that light wasn't yet bright enough for the unmerry men to see. And others...

"You didn't seem to care so much when I suggested going after the Witch's soldiers," she replied, her eyes going to Snow.

Snow pursed her lips, looking conflicted.

"That's because we're not here to kill, Regina."

She shook her head in exasperation.

"You never learn, do you, Snow? Just because one side chooses to sit on its hands, doesn't mean the other won't overrun them! If the rumours about this witch are true, do you really think she's going to listen to an offer of friendship and pull back her army? Your experience with me should tell you everything you need to know about that." She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "And don't you remember what happened in Neverland?"

"Yes!" Snow insisted. "Nobody had to die. Emma talked the Lost Boys around and that helped lead us to Pan! You took back Henry's heart without anyone dying," she fired back.

"As much as I appreciate the acknowledgement of my part, dear, I think you've conveniently ignored the rest of the story. Rumplestiltskin had to kill Pan and then died himself!"

There was silence.

"You want to know the difference between you and I, Snow?" Regina said finally, her tone soft and low. "You will only ever see the world through the sheltered eyes of a twelve year old child. I see the world as it really is. And the world is full of people who cannot be _handled_ with a few choice words and an hour of kindness."

Snow shook her head sadly.

"I can never give up on seeing the good. On believing that good can overcome anything. I've seen it. And I know you could if you wanted to."

Tinkerbell inserted herself between the two women. She sensed the present restraint could be undone with one misspoken word.

"Maybe it's not a question of one or the other," she reasoned, her head turning as she looked at Snow, then Regina. "Maybe we need both."

The unspoken words hung in the air.

_We need both of you. _

"Snow, so we don't lose hope. And Regina, so we don't forget that we need our eyes open."

Snow seemed to deflate at Tinkerbell's words. Regina sighed and fought not to roll her eyes. The woman clung onto her notion of good so tightly. She would never see. She didn't want to see.

"So, that's it?" Snow shook her head. "We can never agree? Never be on the same side? I can't..."

Regina frowned at the almost-plaintive words. If she didn't know better, she would have said that almost sounded like...Snow was more concerned about them being against each other than any concept of good or evil. That Snow wanted...

Tinkerbell shook her head.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying you're already on the same side here. You're just approaching it from different directions."

Regina slung the pack Tinkerbell had given her over one shoulder.

"Open eyes, indeed? I suppose you learned that from your experience with me."

Tinkerbell smiled somewhat wistfully.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I think it was my most valuable lesson."

* * *

The last remaining traces of daylight faded and night engulfed them swiftly.

Horses had been saddled up with most of the supplies. The camp had been packed up, fires extinguished, tents dismantled. The older sleeping children were tied with makeshift harnesses to the backs of the strongest women, while the babies were carried by their mothers. Those old enough to understand would walk the journey.

Nothing left to do but part ways and begin the trek to the forest beyond the valley.

Now was the time for families. Goodbyes and promises were murmured quietly. Embraces were long and fierce.

She stood alone, her back turned to all of it, staring hard into the dark they were soon to walk into. Just as there had been no one to welcome her back from Neverland, there was no one now to farewell her. It was wholly unsurprising.

Who, after all, would desire to fare the Evil Queen well?

She supposed that all was as it should be.

"I imagine you did not have many opportunities to ride a horse in the other realm."

She started slightly, but didn't turn as Robin walked up beside her, holding the reins to a horse.

"I haven't forgotten how, if that's what you're wondering."

He chuckled quietly.

"No, I would not deign to. What I'm wondering is if there is, in fact, anything you would admit being unable to do."

She looked sidelong at him, seeing the night-time shadows flicker across his face.

_See my son again._

_Find a happy ending._

_Lift this incessant weariness from my bones._

"I suppose you'll never know," she replied.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled wryly, rubbing a hand over his unshaven jaw. He pulled on the reins and brought the horse forward to stand beside him.

"In that case, my very best steed should suit you well for the journey," he said, reaching up and placing a hand on the animal's flank. "I expect her back, of course."

His eyes held his true meaning as he stood back to allow her room to move in front of him. She felt the long-familiar firmness of muscle in the animal under her palms. She rubbed slowly along its side, admiring its strength and beauty. Finally, she took hold of the horse and placed her foot in the stirrup. She knew why Robin had given her this particular horse. His horse.

_I expect you back. With my son. _

She turned her head to face him.

"Roland will be safe with me," she promised.

He reached forward and held the horse steadily by the reins as she gripped the saddle and hauled herself up and over. And in a second, all time and no time had passed as she felt the familiar beast beneath her. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes momentarily.

He raised his eyebrows at her and shook his head.

"Somehow, despite the person you have been, despite all I know and have heard, I know my son is safer in your hands than almost anyone else in this group." He stared up at her, his gaze intense. "Your history is dark, Regina, but I think I see something of the light in you."

She regarded him carefully, her own thoughts on the subject still fresh in her mind.

Of course, he hadn't been there when she had been inches away from wrenching out a man's heart.

"Then you're not looking very hard, Robin of the Hood."

A flicker of a smile.

"Oh, I think I'm beginning to see you, Regina," he replied, handing her the reins. He stepped back. "I wonder what would happen..." he continued, glancing in the direction some of the women were already heading. It was almost as if he was reluctant for her to go.

Her horse moved to follow them, but she held it back with a command from her hold on the reins.

"What?" she asked curiously.

His eyes moved back to hers.

"If you had more people to care about, the way you care about Roland."

She regarded him carefully. His eyes were clear and honest and he was one of the few people in the group who looked at her without that edge of fear. He had acknowledged her past, but seemed more intent on getting on with things in the present. He questioned her actions, but that only seemed to come out of a genuine concern for the group as a whole, not as a grudge against her. Noble, but not with that foolishness that came with being a Charming.

"I did once," she said softly. "And I destroyed the world. I became as you see me now." She all but dared him with her eyes to retain his confidence in her.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze never breaking from hers.

"And who are you, Regina?"

She looked away from him and stared up at the sky. She could faintly make out the green glow as Tinkerbell rose higher and higher above them, ready to sound the alarm should they find themselves discovered during the journey.

She recalled Tinkerbell's words.

"I am the reason your eyes are open," she replied and nudged the horse forward, but not before catching sight of the thoughtful look that passed over his face.

* * *

The first hour ticked by slowly, each woman lost in her own thoughts.

The hours after that seemed to travel more quickly as feet moved, one in front of the other. As rests were taken, women alternating between walking and travelling on horseback. As the urgency grew, of not wanting to be stuck halfway to their destination as the sun rose, forcing them to hide amongst the trees, open and vulnerable to danger.

Shapes and shadows.

There were the straight, tall shapes of the trees reaching up to meet her. And the occasional night-flying bird with eyes so much keener than hers, intent on the hunt. And the quiet. There was barely any wind, so the air did not rush past her ears as it had in past flights. Flights long ago.

Tinkerbell flew as low as she dared without being completely obvious to anyone in the surrounding area. The sky was clear and twinkled with stars, but the forest below was still shrouded by the darkness.

She squinted as she saw the occasional larger shape of a horse in between the trees, usually followed by a couple of small figures beside or behind it.

Her eyes scanned the ground for unusual signs as she soared over and around their group.

So far, there was nothing.

So far, they were safe.

And the night hours passed.

* * *

Regina had all but forgotten how hypnotic the rocking sensation could be. It had been so long since she'd ridden a horse, she was sure her thighs and posterior would be sore tomorrow and for several days after. But, she could almost imagine herself all those years ago. She and Rocinante riding the wind or taking a lazy stroll.

She shifted in the saddle and looked up at the stars, peeking through the trees as she passed underneath. The night was bright, which was a blessing as they would not need to light their own way. Her spell was working to perfection and all the children continued to sleep soundly. The women were quiet, whether from fear or reflection, she couldn't guess.

She had made sure to ride near the woman carrying Roland. He was more still than she had ever seen him and looked utterly safe and at peace.

_I know my son is safer in your hands than almost anyone else in this group. _

It was a strange thing, trust. Her own experience of it was severely limited, both in giving it and receiving it in return. The rips and tears that remained on her heart had seen to that. But, with this self-metamorphosis, it seemed things that she had long thought lost for good were being restored. One agonising inch at a time.

She trusted Tinkerbell. She had trusted the fairy once and it had been her own flaws, her own fears that had ruined the friendship between them back then. And now that the fairy was away from Neverland, that bitter version of herself had disappeared and she seemed far more like her former self than she had ever been.

Regina's eyes drifted and she found herself staring hard at Snow's back. Her feelings about trust when it came to this woman were so much hazier. In fact, she tried not think about it most of the time. Yet, she had a feeling deep down (in a place even she would find it hard to admit) that Snow would do whatever she could not to break confidence again. Not to do anything that would resemble betrayal. If only out of fear of what would happen.

Did that mean Regina could really trust her? Perhaps with something small. Something of no consequence. Anything of substance though, well, that door was all but closed forever.

She thought.

And then there was Robin Hood.

Seemingly without much ado, they had exchanged a kind of trust that felt rather significant. His initial suspicion of her friendship with Roland had passed quickly. And now, he was all but putting his son's life in her hands without even questioning whether she would come through. He simply expected she would. And her own misgivings about allowing him to tend to her injury had been somewhat unfounded. He had not mentioned it once since she had left him by the river. Hadn't held it over her, hadn't taunted her with it. Though she imagined that kind of petty behaviour was not in his nature. She found she could live with the discomfort of knowing he had seen her in a weakened state.

It felt something like understanding.

"Your Majesty?"

Shaken from her reverie, Regina looked down and to the right to see the woman, the woman who had made her tea, walking alongside. She offered up her hand which held some kind of flask, her eyes not quite meeting Regina's.

"It's mulled wine, Your Majesty. It has retained a little warmth. I thought I might offer you some."

_I don't do rum. _

What she didn't do was share a glorified hip flask with near strangers. But, she made the mistake of catching the woman's eye and saw that brief flicker of hope again. And something like awe. She was not much accustomed to a look like that. Before she had even really decided, Regina's hand was reaching down and taking the flask. She lifted it to her lips and let a mouthful of the sweet, vaguely spicy liquid slide down her throat.

"Did you make this?" she asked quietly, handing it back. When the woman nodded shyly, she smiled briefly. "It's quite good."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the woman squeaked.

"Regina will do, my dear. And you are...?"

The woman swallowed hard, as if unable to believe she was indeed having a conversation of sorts with the fearsome woman many called the Evil Queen.

"Rhiannon, Your...Regina."

She nodded once.

"Well, thank you Rhiannon."

The woman bowed her head and fell back behind her, having used her last vestiges of courage for the time being.

It was courage Regina could admire.

* * *

There was something in the air. She could sense it even without sight. A change in atmosphere, of feeling? An undercurrent of some kind. A sinking.

She had reported in not an hour ago with the same message as the previous two times. That there was nothing and no one around. That they should continue their course. That there was no sign of pursuit.

Tinkerbell slowed and stopped mid-air, her wings buzzing to keep her in one place. It had been growing within her for a little while now. This...awareness. This...something. She darted glances back and forth, her eyes narrowed against the dark.

"What _is_ it?" she whispered, breathing a little faster. She couldn't shake the feeling in her chest of deep foreboding.

She descended foot by foot, her heartbeat thudding against her chest. She knew it wasn't nothing. She knew it wasn't simply the night playing tricks on her with shifting shadows.

And then she froze in mid-air.

Yes.

There it was.

The tiniest of lights below and to the left. She would almost have thought it a trick of the moonlight if she hadn't seen it again.

She moved lower still, her muscles taut as could be. Whoever it was was too far away to be a straggler of their group. Everyone had been specifically instructed to keep up, tired and sore or not.

And then a sound.

Of whoosing. Something riding the air...

The arrow missed her by mere inches and she practically spun in the air, shocked at not having detected its coming. Shocked at such a close call.

She collected her breath in a second.

And then she dropped in a fierce nosedive.

* * *

**A/N It's on! If you have read any of my other stories, you know I like a good action scene. Now, I get to write it!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Thanks again for reading! **

Chapter 11

Regina pushed down on the stirrup holding her left foot and swung her right leg over the horse, bending her knee to drop to the ground. The animal was becoming a little unsettled. It was tired, perhaps. They had been travelling for a number of hours now.

She stood straight for a moment, then leant backwards to stretch, placing her hands on her hips. She pulled her legs up one at a time, wincing as she attempted to loosen the tight muscles.

Once upon a time, she would have shrugged off the soreness, or revelled in it. All part of a day's ride in her youth. And though she hadn't aged as the years had passed, it felt like her body would take just a little longer to recover than it once had.

She pushed her hair back with one hand and sighed. The night was long indeed, and tedious. She squinted up at the moon, trying to gauge the passing of hours. Her brow furrowed further when she caught the familiar hint of green spiralling through the air.

_We certainly never flew that fast_, Regina thought, tilting her head to watch Tinkerbell almost plummet towards her.

Her muscles tightened again, this time in alarm. Within the blink of an eye, Tinkerbell disappeared, only to reappear directly in front of her. It hadn't been that long since she had reported in. The fairy's eyes were wide and she panted from exertion. After a few deep breaths, Tinkerbell strode forward, grabbed her by the arm and walked her backwards towards the trees lining their path. She almost tripped and she glowered at the fairy.

"What-"

And then Tinkerbell put a finger to her lips. A small gesture that spoke volumes.

_Ah._

They stood staring at each other for a moment. She felt a stirring deep down. Wisps of a whirlwind rising within. A promise she had made.

_If they attack us, I won't let them live._

When it came to things like that, she kept her word.

Just as she had with Snow, she knew there was only one question that needed answering.

"Where are they?"

Tinkerbell, face pale, hooked a thumb in the opposite direction to where she was standing.

"I couldn't tell the size of the group, but I know they have weapons. Bows, at least, judging by the arrow that almost took my head off. What do you want to do?"

She pursed her lips and looked out from behind a tree toward the front of their group.

"Get Snow. We at least have one person proficient with a bow." _Though I'll deny ever having said that._

Tinkerbell quickly moved toward Snow and Regina spun around, her eyes piercing the dark. They needed to get the children out.

Now.

She looked out from behind the tree again and spotted the person she was looking for.

"Rhiannon!"

The woman froze mid-step, her neck snapping around at the sound of her name. Her eyes went impossibly wide as she realised who had called her. At Regina's impatient flick of the hand, she scurried over, equal parts fear and uncertainty.

"Your...Reg..."

She cut her off.

"Do you know the way to the forest beyond the valley?"

There was a pause.

"Aye, milady, I do," Rhiannon whispered. She looked puzzled. "What..."

"The Witch's soldiers are currently approaching us," Regina informed her curtly. "They are almost upon as I speak." Rhiannon gulped, but made no attempt to reply. "Snow and I must stay behind and hold them up. You are going to lead the women on. We will join you when we can."

Rhiannon shook her head quickly.

"No! I cannot-"

"We don't have time for whatever foolish excuse is going to come out of your mouth!" she retorted, grabbing the woman and yanking her bodily to where Robin's horse was still waiting on the path. She picked up the reins, placing them in Rhiannon's hand. "I need someone with some guts. I've chosen you. Gather the women. Get some of those with older children to help you. Move them forwards. Just keep going. And, whatever you do, don't look back."

Rhiannon mounted the horse, looking terrified, but determined. Who would say no to a Queen? Regina turned her back immediately and walked quickly to where Snow and Tinkerbell had gathered. Snow had her bow clutched in her hand.

"We can't possibly fight them back just the three of us," Snow said breathlessly, an arrow already in her other hand. "We should concentrate on getting away from here as fast as we can."

"What happened to the endless optimism?" Regina snapped in reply. "And yes, we _can_." She looked at their companion. "Tinkerbell, we need you to act as a distraction. Fly at them, do whatever you have to. Snow, cut down the bowmen, I don't need any arrows flying at me while I do this."

She felt the threat provoking the power within her as she stared into the trees.

Snow narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

Regina's mouth tilted up in one corner.

"Exactly what I promised, dear."

It was at that moment, an ear-piercing scream split the night.

* * *

Chaos.

It was utter madness.

A number of soldiers charged into the middle of their group. The women screamed and made their escape in all directions, hindered by the frantic horses. Those carrying children moved slower, encumbered by their precious loads. A few carried staffs and ran at the soldiers fearlessly, clubbing and swinging for all they were worth.

At the sight of her first soldier, Snow's arm whipped back and she released an arrow with deadly precision. Her arm immediately reached back and drew another arrow from her quiver.

Tinkerbell disappeared in an instant, her tiny light flickering this way and that toward the approaching menace.

Regina methodically tugged at the cuffs of her sleeves, rolling them up as she watched the soldiers loom closer. She felt the blood rushing through her veins as it hadn't done in many years. Felt anger and adrenaline pulsing through her. How dare they attack! She wanted them gone, brought down to their knees.

She raised her hands, determined to hold nothing back. The enemy certainly would not.

_These pitiful fools don't even know what's coming._

Suddenly, there was bright light illuminating the scene as arrows dipped in oil and set alight were fired into the trees around the path. Lazy curls of smoke began to cloud the path, both shielding the women and causing them to breathe in the choking air.

_Enough._

She spotted a group of three moving forward and swept her hands out, throwing them back, walking towards them as she did so. She kept her eyes fixed on them as she came closer and in the flickering light, she saw one of them lift his head up, spotted the dagger in his hand.

"You should've played dead," she growled and twisted her hand, snapping his neck. She glanced down at his two companions, who were staring up at her in horror. They were frozen with their dead comrade between them.

She forced her mind to go blank, to shut down any of the thoughts that would stop her. She couldn't stop, not if they were to make it safely out of here. The threat was here in flesh and blood and she was the only one equipped to deal with it. She smiled coldly, the blackness coursing through every part of her. And she let it. Surely, it had been there all along, hiding behind her good behaviour and self-control. It had been there, buried deep under tears for her son and her growing fondness for the people around her. It had emerged a couple of times, but she had reined it in then.

Not this time.

It was ice-cold clarity.

"Did you expect a group of meek, frightened little women?" she asked in mock curiosity, bending over them. "Too bad you got me instead." She reached down and plunged her hand into one man's chest and he wailed in fear and pain. Wrenching her hand back, she yanked his heart from his body and gripped it in her hand. He fell back, limp and spent and she squeezed his heart until he moaned. She watched emotionlessly.

Lifting the heart to her lips, she whispered.

"Get up."

His eyes screamed defiance, but his body obeyed her. Staggering to his feet, he leaned one hand against a tree, fists clenched and chest heaving.

"Take your sword and run him through."

His companion registered too late the full extent of her control. The heartless man reached down and picked up his weapon. With a swift cut, his companion fell back and lay still.

She turned on her heel and stalked back towards the path. With his heart in her grasp, he was a danger to no one. And with his heart nothing but dust...

She moved her arm this way and that, causing men to fly in all directions. And when they came directly at her, she conjured fire into her hands and scattered them, sending them running for cover. Time and again, she forced them back, away from her, away from the retreating women. She saw Snow, at times on this side, then on that side, her hands working the bow again and again.

A strange thought occurred that, together, they made quite a team.

As she held back more soldiers, Regina turned this way and that, watching the last of the women disappear into the night. She could spot neither Rhiannon nor the woman carrying Roland amongst them. A few of their group lay unmoving on the ground, but there was no time to linger with the injured. Or the dead.

"Regina!"

At Snow's shout of warning, she turned her head back in time to see the man release the dagger, send it hurtling toward her. She threw her hand up in an instant and watched it dissolve into powder and vanish into the air. She fixed her eyes through the haze. The man who had thrown it saw his initial plan had failed and drew his sword, jumping forward with a shout.

Her eyes drifted up to the tree branches above him and she brought her hand up, snapping her wrist around. The branches began moving, slowly at first, then rushing forward to entwine themselves around his torso and then his arms and legs, lifting him bodily into the air. He gasped, his eyes bulging and she stepped forward. Slowly. Like a predator that had found its prey and had it trapped completely with not a single chance of escape.

Oh, she felt powerful at this moment.

She thought of all the things she could do to him. She had a little time now. The crowd of soldiers had thinned, the path littered with bodies. She could use him to send a message, drive the rest of them back...

And then it came.

Snow suddenly cried out and fell to her knees, dropping her bow and clutching her shoulder, where an arrow had lodged in it. Her head was bent low, her jaw clamped shut to prevent any more noise from escaping. She sucked in oxygen with a hiss, turning her head this way and that, eyes clenched shut to block out the pain.

Regina's upper lip curled as she watched the other woman falter. Then she lifted her eyes to glare at the bowman who stood off to the side. Her look alone could have snapped the next arrow in his hand. Or caused it to burst into flames.

Her hand was raised before she could even really think about why she was doing it. She waved it once, violently, and the would-be assassin flew backwards, his head thudding with a sickening crack against a tree, before he slipped to the ground and lay unmoving.

There were only about five of them left now, their swords and daggers thrust forward, gleaming and vicious. They revealed themselves from vantage points around the path. The women had all gone, leaving only this small group and the sudden silence was punctuated only by Snow's hissing breaths.

Tinkerbell rushed forward and knelt beside Snow, grabbing onto her uninjured arm and placing an arm around her waist.

"Regina?"

She didn't turn.

"Go. Take Snow and keep going. I'll join you shortly." She smirked at the men. "This shouldn't take long."

She heard, rather than saw, the scuffle as Tinkerbell helped Snow to her feet and then the scraping and shuffling as she ushered her away toward the bend in the path. Regina kept her eyes on the five as they stood with their weapons raised high, looking angry and uncertain all at once.

She didn't need inches of steel to be vicious. Nor did she need a staff or a bow or any other weapon. She could do it with the destruction in her hands and the fire in her heart.

And she did.

* * *

She stepped over the bodies as she made her way down the path. For such an ambush, there were surprisingly few of the women and none of the children here.

She had looked.

It was something she would never have done before. Cast her eyes over the casualties. Spared a moment for those who stared wide and unseeing at something she couldn't see. Unless, of course, it was a particular enemy whose death she wanted to revel in. But, as she approached each of the five women who hadn't made it, she bent down and brushed back their hair, reaching down with two fingers to feel for a pulse. Each time, she was met with not even the barest of flutters. And the sense of disquiet within her grew greater still.

As she reached the fifth woman, Regina stopped dead. Her eyes narrowed. Then, she dropped beside her and turned her over, scanning her face for a sign of life. She patted down the woman's body as if that would help her find what she was looking for, running her hands over the material of her dress. Something like dread passed over her and she twisted her body around to scan the forest around her.

There were no children here. She was positive of that.

So, if the woman who had carried him lay dead beside her, where was the hell was Roland?

* * *

She could tell from the looks in their eyes that they already knew.

She walked forward, feeling heavy with tiredness and not flushed with the thrill of victory, and the uninjured women standing in her way moved aside one by one as she passed them, moving back behind her as she made her way toward the front of the group.

The wounded had been laid in a row on makeshift beds of blankets and clothes. No one spoke as she walked slowly along the row, the only sound being the occasional whimper. As she had never bothered with the dead, neither had she spared much thought for the injured in the past. At her order, they had always been removed from her sight to receive attention from someone else, or to die in agony within the grey walls of an infirmary. Those of the past were faceless and forgotten.

A cursory inspection of those before her now showed many of them had minor injuries, ones that could be healed with their small medicinal supplies. But, there were also others...others who would not be so fortunate. Who would be lucky to see the next sunrise.

She stopped before one woman whose eyes were closed, her head lying peacefully to the side, her hands stretched out on the ground. A second woman knelt beside her, pressing down on a bandage which covered the woman's belly, close to her hip. Regina and the woman stared at each other and at her questioning eyebrow, the woman shook her head quickly, biting her lip, face screwed up in anguish. The injured woman suddenly moaned and jerked and her eyes fluttered open.

"The boy..." she rasped. "They took..."

She felt cold as she swiftly knelt down and bent over the dying woman.

"Which boy?" she demanded. "Tell me his name!"

The woman swallowed and coughed, the sound wet and choking. She tried to draw a steadying breath.

"Roland," the woman whispered, her fingers reaching up to swipe at the blood trickling down her face. "Robin's boy. They took him. I tried...I'm sorry, Your M-"

"Stop," Regina whispered, shaking her head. "You have nothing to apologise for."

"Rhiannon's gone too," another woman from the group spoke. "They brought the horse she was riding down, killed it and took her with them."

_I expect her back, of course._

_I know my son is safer in your hands than almost anyone else in this group._

His horse and his son. She hadn't had anyone depend on her besides Henry in so long and now the only two things Robin Hood had entrusted to her were gone. She knew the horse was nothing compared to Roland, but she felt angry, angry at herself that she had let both slip through her fingers.

And now Rhiannon too.

They were going to pay.

She would make them pay.

She stood and looked down to the end of the row, where Tinkerbell was tying off a bandage around Snow's shoulder.

"Your Majesty, are you injured?" A woman approached her with a small bowl of water and a cloth. "You are bleeding."

Regina reached up and rubbed her cheek and forehead, locating a cut across one eyebrow. She waved her hand impatiently.

"It's nothing. And you would do well to call me Regina. All of you," she added with a slightly raised voice. "

"Please, it's the least I can do," the woman with the water spoke again, taking a step forward. "You saved us."

The words burrowed themselves inside her, as if seeking out a hole that needed filling somewhere within. She looked up at the gathered women and they all looked back at her, causing her level of discomfort to ratchet upwards. It was somewhat reminiscent of her return from Neverland, this...thing...which resembled gratitude. Admiration. Speaking of which...

"She's right," came Snow's strained and pain-filled voice. "You did save us."

Regina walked up and stood before Snow, who was leaning back against the trunk of a tree, trying to find a comfortable position. She stared down at the pale woman who had once been her step-daughter, a peculiar sensation prickling the back of her neck. A myriad of things she could say ran through her mind. '_Are you alright?'_seemed the least complicated. And the most.

Of all the years she had focused on her revenge, this was possibly the closest she had ever come to realising her goal of actually seeing Snow dead. And it hadn't even been at her own hand. And now, seeing the woman's blood-spattered face and trembling hands and recalling everything that had passed between them since they'd returned to this place, it occurred to her that she didn't want it to be.

She wanted this woman alive and well.

She just didn't know what for.

"You have excellent aim," she finally offered. "You fought well." She immediately looked away, unwilling to see the expression on Snow's face. It felt a little like giving ground, to speak positive thoughts in this manner.

Snow frowned, but the corners of her mouth turned up minutely. Before she could react enough to pull it back, Snow had leaned forward, wincing as the movements jolted her injured shoulder and grabbed her hand and held it tightly in her own. She tugged her down to kneel beside her. Regina supposed she could have shaken the hand off and moved herself to a safe distance.

Yes, she could have done that.

"Let go. You're making a scene," Regina said uncomfortably. She tried to pull her hand back, unsuccessfully.

"I finally saw it," Snow said.

"What?" she asked curiously. Snow had long been witness to her power. To the lengths she would go to achieve her objectives. That was nothing new.

Snow smiled.

"What it looks like when we fight on the same side."

Regina took hold of Snow's hand with her other and prised the woman's fingers off, freeing herself.

"Well, you'll have to save the rousing speech for another time. I have to go. Now."

Snow stared at her in confusion and Tinkerbell frowned at her.

"What? Where are you going?" the fairy asked.

Regina stood and stepped back from the two women.

"I'm going to get Roland and Rhiannon back, that's where I'm going."

Tinkerbell shook her head fervently and Snow's mouth opened, aghast.

"Regina, no. You can't go off half-cocked. You don't even know which direction they're headed. It would be far better to wait here for David and Robin and the rest. We can make a plan then."

She felt her lip curl and shook her own head in reply.

_It's my fault they're gone. Roland was entrusted to me. And I should never have sent Rhiannon off like that._

Of all the times for the floodgates of guilt to open.

"If what David and the others said is true and the Witch has not yet entered this realm, they'll take Roland and Rhiannon to her. We don't know where they'll end up. We have to find them before that happens. We can't risk letting them be sent through a portal." Her tone brooked no argument.

Snow looked up at her beseechingly.

"If you would just wait for the others. They won't be more than a few hours behind us, not since we changed our plans."

Regina held up a hand.

"This isn't a debate. I am not waiting around here when I can use magic to find them and follow them." She stared hard at Snow. "I'm going to get them back. And I'll destroy every last soldier if I have to."

Snow met her eyes for an intense minute, before she sat back with a resigned sigh.

"It's not as if any of us could stop you. Just..." Her eyes pleaded. "Be careful. Please. Haven't we lost enough?"

_Haven't we lost enough?_

_Haven't we lost enough?_

She was shocked to feel her eyes stinging and she blinked fiercely to contain the tears which seemed to come from nowhere. She nodded jerkily. She knew better than anyone what they'd lost.

"Yes. I suppose we have."

Her legs moved forward without her command and she knelt down again, avoiding the woman's surprised expression. She schooled her face into a neutral mask and took a deep breath, placing her hand against Snow's wounded shoulder.

She felt her power grow and gather at her fingertips, felt it flow from her hands and into Snow. She stared intently at the bandage, knowing she didn't have a hope of healing the wound completely. Her heightened emotions would aid her, but not really enough. She didn't know what she was even trying to accomplish by doing this.

She ignored her body's signs that it was too much, merely gritted her teeth and concentrated harder, forcing more of her magic into Snow's wound.

"_Stop now." _The voice seemed to come from far away.

"_Regina, you can stop."_

She blinked and her eyes came back into focus. She took in a deep, shuddering breath and her eyes met Snow's.

"It's much better," Snow said with a small smile.

_That was stupid. What the hell did you do that for?_

Regina stood up without a word and turned away, almost stumbling through the group of women again, back in the direction from which she had come.

* * *

Snow looked up at the sky intently. Then, she looked over at Tinkerbell, whose face was lined with worry.

"You need to find them and tell them what happened. Can you do that?"

Tinkerbell lifted her hands.

"Of course. Will you be alright here?"

Snow nodded.

"We'll be fine."

Tinkerbell squinted into the night, to where Regina had disappeared.

"Will she?"

Snow looked solemnly at her.

"I hope so."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N Suddenly we're on Chapter 12 (my attempts at one-shots really are laughable) and there's only one left after this. Hope you've enjoyed the ride so far.**

Chapter 12

"Easy. Easy."

Anyone who happened upon this moment would never have imagined the woman standing with the skittish horse had once been the famed and feared Evil Queen of the Enchanted Forest. That the gentle hands running along the horse's flank had dealt death and unmerciful cruelty time and again. That the voice, now soothing and melodious, had spat venomous threats that would make a man turn tail and run. And that the soft, natural smile that curled her lips had once been a perpetual scowl that rendered even the most beautiful of faces into one twisted and hard.

She was unaware of what this would look like to anyone. She was too busy wrapped up in the way a horse could still calm her, even decades later. How its rippling muscles reminded her of strength beyond her own. That its eyes could manifest wisdom she would never have.

She had caught sight of the terrified animal not far from where they had been ambushed, standing amongst the haze of still-smoking arrows. It had trembled at the sight of her, rearing slightly, but making no move to run away. She needed it to execute her plan to rescue Roland and Rhiannon. So, she had sat on a fallen log, within sight of it and waited. Then she had moved closer and waited again.

Closer and closer.

Until she no longer sat down, simply stood nearby as it adjusted to her presence.

And it was as if the decades simply fell away when she stood directly in front of it and held out her hand, palm up, for it to assess. Felt its damp mouth and nostrils as it nudged her fingers expectantly, jerking its head up and down and making the clasps on its bridle jingle slightly. She brought her other hand up and moved beside it, running a hand down its nose and murmuring words gently into its ear. It couldn't decipher the nonsense, but it pricked its ears at her tone as it continued to inspect her.

It was truly strange to feel herself like this again. As if she was looking in a mirror after decades of not seeing, only to still recognise what she saw. She remembered herself. Not as Cora's repressed and controlled daughter. Not as a distraught lover. Not as an innocent young queen being drawn into the Dark One's web. Not as an agent of evil. Not as a condescending mayor. No, not in any _part_ she had ever played. Just herself, that inner essence that had been all but crushed and torn asunder by life and experience, squashed down so low as to be almost forgotten.

Almost.

Yet, it was here, alone in the forest with this magnificent beast, that she suddenly felt _Regina_. And it was as if all those unfitted, jumbled parts of herself that still didn't match took heed of that most central of all parts and softened, just ever so slightly, to mould themselves to it.

She could still rain fire on her enemies.

She could still instil fear in the hearts of men.

She could still command intimidation.

But, perhaps she could still be this Regina too. It was what she had been trying to be at the end. When Henry had almost been taken from her for good and she'd fought for his heart. And when she'd let him go. When she'd looked into Emma's eyes and wished for her a good life. When she had readied her breaking, anguished heart and cast her magic into Pan's curse. When she'd lifted her face up to the sky in the midst of crackling lighting and roaring thunder and laughed. And when her first instinct when Snow had dropped to the ground was to throw back the one who had done it.

She wiped her chin with the heel of her hand and sniffed back her tears.

She wasn't soft. Would never _be_ soft, not after everything. She was fierce and determined and she would find Roland and Rhiannon and punish anyone who got in her way.

Perhaps she had always been destined to be this complex enigma. This untamed mix of contrasts and contradictions. Of shadows and light.

She gave the horse one last pat and stood back. She breathed in the night air, closing her eyes and recalling to mind the spell that would set her plan in motion.

And when she opened her eyes, she felt calm and ready. She moved to the horse's side and hauled herself up onto its back, feeling it adjust to her weight. She tugged the reins and it turned, carrying her forward. Forward in the direction the spell was leading her, urgently calling her to follow.

To save those she was growing to care about.

Whatever it took.

* * *

They were startled by her appearance. And then concerned.

"Tink?" Hook said. "What's going on?"

Tinkerbell took the canteen the pirate offered and took a long drink. After swallowing and wiping her mouth, she looked at the group of men.

"We were ambushed...I-"

Her voice was drowned out by the dozen outcries that each fought for attention. She closed her mouth and waited for them to calm.

"Quiet! Quiet! Let the woman speak."

She gratefully nodded at Robin and continued.

"Regina and Snow defended us gamely, but they couldn't stop everything." She turned to David. "Snow was hit, but she's going to be _fine_." She smiled sympathetically as his face turned ashen, knowing full well he wouldn't fully believe her until he saw Snow again.

"Any losses?" John asked quietly, soberly.

Tinkerbell nodded, but held up a hand.

"It all happened too quickly. We had to leave the dead behind. I don't know exactly who has fallen, but I know there were five of them."

Each man looked at the others in silence as they tried to digest the horrendous news. Tinkerbell steeled herself.

"And...two were taken."

All heads snapped in her direction once more.

"Who?" Robin demanded.

"Your boy was one of them. And Rhiannon. I think they were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Robin's eyes closed briefly and he seemed to age before Tinkerbell's eyes. When his eyes opened, he blinked away the tears that had sprung up and straightened up to his full height.

"In which direction were they taken? We must recover them."

Tinkerbell pointed.

"From here, they will have gone that way. Regina's gone after them. She said we needed to stop them before they went through a portal."

"Alone?" David asked incredulously.

Tinkerbell nodded.

"Yes. I think she felt responsible."

She saw Robin shake his head slightly at that.

"Listen, I know what she's done. To all of you. To me," she said, looking around at the gathered men. "But, I don't think you know her as much as you think you do. I don't think she knows herself either. Not anymore. But, I do know that she will rip out the throat of every man who tried to hurt those women. And she'll do whatever it takes to get Roland and Rhiannon back. Even if the cost is to herself." She lowered her gaze, feeling as if she had said rather too much.

The men looked at each other again.

"Perhaps the Queen would appreciate some assistance," John said, swinging up onto his horse.

"Yes," Robin agreed, reaching forward to briefly take hold of Tinkerbell's arm. "We'll bring them _all_ back. Rest assured."

Tinkerbell watched them go, hope rising as high as she could ever remember.

* * *

Dawn's grey light rose before her across the horizon. At last, she was free of the forest, free of the night. Free to move faster. It was odd how easy it had been to recall her substantial skills as a horsewoman. After an initial period of adjusting to height and balance and speed, she and the horse had become increasingly in sync with each other. Perhaps it really was true what they said about riding a bike. Or in her case, a beautiful brown mare.

With each graceful movement of her steed, she felt the growing closeness of the enemy she sought. Of course, she could have instantly whisked herself there in a purple cloud, but she had been conscious of them still being on the move. What she wanted was for them to have settled, perhaps made a camp. To fall into a false sense of confidence and relax their vigilance. They would stow their prisoners somewhere and she wanted to find Roland and Rhiannon and get them away before she came back to deal with their captors. She had no idea how many there would be. Perhaps only a few had survived the ambush and were going back to meet a larger group somewhere.

It was why she needed to take a closer look first.

That and the fact that she had never actually attempted a rescue like this before. In another life, she had come to someone's aid if it suited her plans. (And when it didn't anymore, she had just as easily dropped the unfortunate souls back in it.) And of course she had rescued Snow from that blasted horse eons ago. And Henry, for whom she would have braved the bottomless pit of Hell.

But, this? Coming to the rescue of two people because it was the right thing to do? Because she felt the responsibility of their plight on her shoulders? She stood to gain nothing from it, though she knew it would endear her to the women of the group to return Rhiannon safely. And it would score points with the unmerry men to bring back Robin Hood's son unharmed.

But, she wasn't in the habit of needing or desiring anyone's approval or validation.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the spell, which told her they were close by. She slowed her horse to a standstill at the top of a hill and stared down below. Forest stretched for mile after mile off into the distance, but there was a vast open area in front of her, broken up with the occasional copse.

They were in there somewhere.

She dismounted and narrowed her eyes to see better in the grey light. It was oh so quiet here in the frosty air and the gentle wind.

Wait.

There.

A thin, wispy curl of smoke rising off to the left in the midst of a stand of trees. That meant a campfire of some sort. She nodded slowly to herself, trying to visualise how they might arrange themselves.

She raised her hand and disappeared within her familiar cloud, only to reappear closer. She led the horse beside a tree and tied it to the trunk. She might need it to send the woman and child to a quick getaway, while she stopped any attempt at a pursuit.

Upon securely fastening the horse, she made her way forward carefully between the trees. Her senses were on high alert, should she randomly encounter someone hunting for firewood or the next meal. She took each step warily, wincing occasionally when leaves underfoot crunched uncomfortably loud.

Eventually, she heard voices. She ventured close enough to see a few tents arranged in a kind of U-shape and she made her way behind them, now out in the open, beyond the shelter of the trees. She ducked low, seeing a couple of soldiers walk by. She waited, counting seconds silently, before moving stealthily between two of the tents. Reaching their end, she knelt down on one knee, holding herself up for balance against the rough material, and leaned forward slowly to peek out.

It was a large area for a camp, since there didn't appear to be many there. As she knelt there and watched, she counted the tents and spotted a few people walking around. She hazarded a guess that there were about twenty soldiers.

If they didn't know who she was and she surprised them, she was confident of dealing with them. She'd been in far worse spots. But, back then she'd been alone. Or with people she cared nothing for. Here, first she had to remove the only thing that could slow her down. The woman and the boy. If they were still here when she caught herself up in a battle, they would become a target. That's what experience had taught her. That's what happened when she cared about things. About _people_. They became the thing that could be used against her.

_Love is weakness, you foolish girl._

She'd heard that from her mother's own lips more times than she could count. But, it was such a twisted concept, one she still couldn't really fathom. Her beloved Daniel had been killed, taking her hopes and dreams with him. And her innocence. She'd tried to drown her love in anger, wipe away the vulnerability that came with an open heart and it had worked. For a time. Even a long time. Not even Tinkerbell and her pixie dust had been able to fix what was inside her. And never had her weakness been more apparent than when Pan had used her love for Henry to get close to her, get access to the Dark Curse.

It had seemed as if her mother was right.

But...

She still remembered standing shackled against the tree of Pan's regret, listening to his taunts about how she, Emma and Snow had all failed, were unable to touch him because they were held captive, not by his ropes, but by their own regrets. How powerful had she felt when she had thrown aside those restraints and felt the full realisation that her love for Henry shattered any attempt Pan could make to stop her.

It was her love that had saved Henry. And that love had made her stronger than anything she could have hoped to be before.

Love. It was the paradox to end them all.

She didn't love Roland or Rhiannon. She didn't love anyone but her son. But, her heart...her heart wanted her to fight for something other than revenge and hatred. She was tired of being sucked dry by the constant darkness. Her mind was being increasingly occupied by things that used to make no sense to her. Henry's declaration that she was no mere villain. The comfort of Tinkerbell's hand squeezing hers in friendship. Roland's gifts of trust and awe. Robin Hood's belief.

She breathed in deeply. A heart of darkness she may have. But, it would no longer stop her from protecting what she cared about.

And then she spotted them.

They sat facing into the camp, Rhiannon with her arms around Roland. He was awake, the spell obviously having worn off at some point during the journey. The bottom of Rhiannon's dress was torn and Regina thought she could see scratches and cuts on the woman's face, evidence of her having put up a fight. Aside from that, they both looked alright, if not a little shaken and subdued.

She stood to back away, to find a path around the ring of tents to the one closest to the pair. She ducked back immediately as two soldiers approached them.

"Up," one of them said roughly. Rhiannon stared up at them, her grip on Roland tightening as he shrank into her.

The soldier who had spoken grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly to her feet. The woman stumbled and cried out softly. Roland buried his face in her side, his tiny hands clutching her dress.

Regina gazed around the camp, feeling the familiar swirl in the pit of her stomach. Her plans were changing rapidly before her eyes. She calculated...

The second soldier reached forward, attempting to take Roland away from Rhiannon. The woman struggled against him, trying valiantly to keep hold of the boy. The soldier slapped her face hard and grabbed her arms, wrenching them away from Roland.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Regina said loudly, rising from her hiding place and taking a single step forward out into the open part of the camp.

The soldiers trying to separate their captives whipped their heads around, shocked to see a simply dressed, rather serene woman reveal herself beside the tents.

They had yet to see the storm rising in her eyes.

Before they could make a move, she swept her hand out and sent them flying, leaving Rhiannon and Roland free to move.

"Come quickly," Regina said, beckoning them with a frantic wave of her hand. They ran across the camp to her. A man emerged from between the tents, holding up a sword and they stopped mid-stride, eyes fixed on the blade. In their swiftness to get to her side, they had let go of each other and now stood several feet apart.

By this time, the commotion had been spotted and a crowd of soldiers had charged into the open space, weapons drawn and at the ready. Some of them had clearly seen her use magic and they made no immediate moves, preferring to wait for her to reveal her intentions.

Oh, how they would run if they knew what her intentions were.

One, no doubt the leader of this group, stepped forward slowly, his eyes fixed on her. He glanced behind her, scanning the woods, as if expecting someone to come to her aid. Apparently satisfied there was no one, his gaze met hers again.

"What do we have here?" he asked gruffly. His gaze travelled up and down her body and he smirked. "She wears the clothes of a peasant, but I do not think she is a peasant. She carries herself far too well. Too...gracefully, too confidently. She is, perhaps, a woman of noble bearing." He looked around his group of men. "And yet, she pursued us to rescue this...woman and her runt of a child. Perhaps they are her servants, though I hardly know of a noblewoman who would risk herself for the likes of these." He waved a careless hand at Rhiannon and Roland.

Several in the group laughed.

"She has magic," the man continued, taking up a slow pace amongst his soldiers. "So, she must be a witch." He raised his hands to ask the question. "Are you a witch, madam?"

She glared at him, eyes glinting.

"Oh, I am so much more than that, dear," she said softly, carefully.

One of the men lifted his crossbow and she held up one finger, shaking her head slowly.

"You should think before you act," she said and raised her whole arm, waving it across the camp. A wall of flame flared up between the men, trapping some behind it, while keeping the others in the middle with her. A few of them leapt away from the fire, while the leader furrowed his brow at her, startled, clearly never having seen magic of this kind.

"Who are you?" he snarled, striding forward a few quick paces and lifting his sword.

She looked back at him, unmoved.

"My name is Regina. I was once the Queen of the Enchanted Forest."

There was silence as they stood there in disbelief. Then, she heard someone distinctly whisper.

"_It's the Evil Queen."_

"That's right," she replied, turning toward the one who had spoken. "Did you think that group of women and children in the forest was defenceless? Unprotected?" Her lip curled. "I am the Queen who tore this land apart. I am the Queen who cast the Dark Curse." She smiled dangerously. "And now, I have come for _you_."

She spun on her heel and caught sight of a flurry of arrows flying toward her. _How unoriginal_. She curled her hand into a fist and each arrow exploded into splinters well short of where she stood. She opened her hand and wrenched it back and the bows and crossbows held by the soldiers burst into flames. The men cried out and let go of their weapons, jumping back and away.

Turning back to the others, she sized up their impending attack. Holding out her hand, palm up, she raised it slowly. Several of the men looked down immediately to see their daggers rising out of their belts as if on a string. Their hands clapped down to their weapon, taking hold and trying to control it, but they were no match for her strength. Her magic.

At that moment, the leader gestured to a couple of his men and they made their way immediately toward Rhiannon and Roland, who still stood in the middle.

They were a target, as she knew they would be. And they were still a few feet apart, making it difficult. She could magic them away, but she needed them together.

_Choose one._

She couldn't do both at the same time and by the time one of them was gone, the other would be bombarded with captors, making it impossible to send them too.

_Choose one._

The woman had a better chance at running. Rhiannon was a smart girl. Perhaps she would even find the horse and escape to send word to the others. If she sent Roland out there alone, he would freeze at the fear of being alone. He would cry and call out for his father, revealing his location in an instant.

Still at odds with her decision, Regina diverted her attention away from the men and their daggers and raised her hands towards Rhiannon. With one hand, she snapped the neck of the soldier closest to Rhiannon and with the other, sent her magic forward. The woman's eyes widened as she felt magic surround her.

She disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke and the soldiers shouted in surprise and anger.

"Find her!" one of them yelled. He seemed to glance to the side of Regina momentarily, before meeting her eyes. "And kill the runt."

"No!" she shouted and turned to Roland, taking a step. Her hand flung out with a fireball, catching the soldier in the chest and throwing him backwards. She knew dropping her guard was a fatal mistake instantly as she felt the thud against the back of her head. Her knees buckled and she slumped down, her ears ringing and her head spinning. Her hand instinctively swept out to stop any from coming closer and she heard a yelp and a thud as her magic carried someone away behind her. She hoped he snapped his spine on the landing. She kept her hand out as a warning that she could still defend herself, even as she squeezed her eyes shut and fought the darkness that threatened to creep over her, the part of her mind that just wanted her to lie down and sleep.

She took in lungfuls of air as she slowly raised her head to glare up at a soldier who had rushed forward to grab Roland when his comrade had fallen. Her hand trembling slightly, she reached out in front of her and gradually curled her fingers into a fist. As her hand closed, she saw the instant her magic registered to the soldier. The moment he realised he could no longer breathe. He reached up to grab at his throat, mouth opening and closing soundlessly and finally remaining open as he struggled in vain for precious oxygen.

"Roland. Close your eyes," she uttered through clenched teeth, but he stood, terrified and frozen, unable to heed her warning. She took another steadying breath, watching the man's eyes begin to roll back in his head. "Roland. Please," she said gently and the boy swallowed hard, before obeying her, scrunching up his face as his eyes closed.

And then the man's grip on the boy's shoulder finally loosened and he fell to the ground with a choking gurgle, twitching once, then lying still. Roland opened his eyes at the sudden freedom and ran toward Regina.

She saw the small dark shape coming at her, but could hardly distinguish it between the blinding stars that dotted her vision. She heard him call her name as though from a great distance, but already she felt herself falling forward, her body unable to sustain the fight. She felt the hard packed dirt against her cheek. And a light, tickling line making its way across her forehead and into her eyebrow. Movement had been stolen from her, though she felt a pressure on what might have been her hand and then a pulling at her arm. A warmth pressed against her. Arms around her back.

Her mind struggled to put together thoughts and she wondered briefly, suddenly, why she was lying on the ground and not in a bed. Everything around her seemed to be slowing down and dimming. Voices came at her and around her from all directions, cut off and garbled. And beyond that, a ringing, repeating but not in any pattern. She blinked a few times and the ringing became louder, only it wasn't ringing anymore. It was more like metal striking metal. Clashing, like...

Swords. It was the sound of swords.

Fighting.

The men were fighting each other?

No. Someone was here. The voices were louder now, more like bellows.

She heard her name again, but it wasn't the same voice. It wasn't Roland's sweet, musical voice. It was deeper, much deeper. She couldn't remember closing her eyes, but all she could see behind her eyelids was darkness, a blessed relief from the blinding light. A brief pressure on the side of her neck and then fingers brushing hair back from her face. The fingers were calloused and rough, but so gentle. So gentle. Words again, unintelligible.

She thought of those gentle fingers in her hair as her mind slipped away and she gave in to the darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N Here is the last chapter of Boy. Thank you so much for reading and for your generous praise! Every time I finish a story I say "OK, that's the last one," but somehow something else pops into my head. So, you may hear from me again. Until then, enjoy the end of this...**

**I really wish March 9****th**** would come faster and save us all the twitching!**

Chapter 13

They staggered in to the group of women, victorious, but exhausted.

Tinkerbell and some of the other women set about fussing over Rhiannon, unpacking horses and ridding men of weapons and other burdens. Those whose wives, sisters, mothers or daughters had not returned were taken aside to hear the story of their brave death related gently. Then they were left to grieve in private.

David rode in to the temporary camp with Regina in front of him, bent over the horse's neck. She had yet to awaken. Snow's eyes widened in horror as she pushed through the crowd. She thought, not for the first time, that it made no sense for her to react in this way, not after all the hate and anger and bloodshed through so many years. But, every time her former step-mother was in danger or under threat, she couldn't stop herself from hurrying to her aid. To her side. Hope had been the silver thread connecting the pieces of her life and Regina had always been one of the biggest pieces. And now, more than ever, Snow felt as if her hope would not dim. Not this time...

"David...?" she asked, standing beside the horse and placing a hand on Regina's leg.

He smiled briefly and nodded.

"She'll live, Snow. She'll live."

Robin dismounted the horse he had been riding and lifted Roland off, placing him on the ground with a kiss to the top of his head. He nodded in thanks as Tinkerbell moved to the boy's side and put her hands on his shoulders. Robin strode forward and moved in front of Snow. With David's help, he pulled Regina gently from the horse and stood with her in his arms. He looked around the group.

"Have we a makeshift bed or a stretcher?" he asked. Two women waved him forward and he carried Regina to an empty, crudely-made stretcher.

Tinkerbell moved forward with Roland in front of her and watched Robin lay the former Queen down, trying not to jostle her too much. As he pulled his arm out from under her, Tinkerbell froze.

And squinted to see better in the dim light.

And swallowed hard past a sudden lump lodged in her throat.

It couldn't be. Not after everything. Not after all this time.

"_I've never seen pixie dust fail..."_

And, yet, there it was.

Tinkerbell shook her head in disbelief, though every part of her magic was based on the very idea of believing.

Yes, there it was.

The lion tattoo.

* * *

Awareness. Like sounds underwater.

Light gathering behind closed eyes.

And then lead. In her arms, her legs, her head. Her body felt like one giant rock, rough and immovable. Her eyes seemed glued shut, like even a monumental effort would prevent them from opening.

She listened to the sounds as they became sharper. There were voices, soft and murmuring, coming from close by. She couldn't distinguish actual words, but they seemed calm. A simple conversation perhaps. And...they were women's voices, she was sure of it. Women's voices...how had she made it back to camp? Wait, there was no camp...Just a haphazard collection of women ravaged by an attack on their lives, waiting in the darkness.

She opened her dry, dry lips and took in a breath. It was cold and fresh and clear, soothing her like a balm. She should open her eyes and see where she was. Yes, she should do that...

She felt stiffness in her neck from where her head was tilted to the side and she turned, immediately wincing as the back of her head came in contact with the less than inviting pillow underneath. Slowly, she ran a heavy hand up her side, up her neck and into her hair, wincing again as her fingers found the generously-sized lump there.

"_Kill the runt."_

_A fireball._

_A thud on the back of her head._

She opened her eyes, blinking as they found light. She stared up, seeing nothing but the branches of trees far above her. Her tongue snaked out and she licked her lips, feeling the cracks in them.

"Here."

She saw the figure loom over her and after a few blinking moments, it materialised into the form of Snow White. Snow held up a cup in front of her and raised her eyebrows. She looked tired.

Regina nodded slightly, too tired and sore to voice a protest or slap the woman's hand away as it wound softly around the back of her neck and lifted her head enough that she could drink. In the end, she lifted her other arm and they held the cup together, before she let her head sink back down, spent by the effort.

"What...?" she croaked, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to alleviate the pressure there. What she wouldn't give right now for some aspirin.

"Tinkerbell found David and the rest and they found you," Snow summarised simply. "Everybody's back here now, including Roland and Rhiannon." Her face creased into a small smile. "You did it. Do you remember?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Of course I remember. I didn't acquire brain damage in the process." She lifted a hand to her forehead, rubbing it with stiff fingers. "Everybody is safe?" She wasn't sure why she needed the reassurance. She could blame it on her pulsating headache for now.

Snow reached forward unexpectedly and took hold of her hand. Instantly, she pulled back, attempting to free herself.

"You must stop doing that, dear. We are not friends," she said archly.

Snow lifted her other hand so that she was clasping Regina's with both.

"No, we're not," she agreed. "But, I can't call you my enemy either. No enemy of mine would have done what you did."

"What?" Regina threw back, finally wrenching her hand free. "Killed men with nothing but my hands? Sent fire into a man's chest? Tell me which part of that the all-pure Snow White is alright with?"

Snow smiled again, as if she knew thoughts beyond Regina's reach.

"Robin and John told me everything they saw. That wasn't vengeance, Regina. That was love."

She sneered at the sky. Trust this woman to catch her here when she was trapped by her injuries.

"And what about Neverland? You were on your high horse when I took that boy's heart so we could talk to Henry. And I _love_ Henry. You can't condone one and disapprove the other. Sometimes things have to be done and you will never understand that in your blinkered view of the world." Her eyes stung with exhaustion and frustration. "I appreciate anything you have done to tend to my injuries, but all I ask of you now is to leave me alone. I don't know what we are anymore, but seeing you..." _Is too complicated. Too confusing. Especially here, in the land where our feud began. _"I don't know what you want from me, but I certainly want nothing from you." She placed a hand over her eyes and held her other arm tightly over her stomach.

"I don't want anything from you either," came Snow's quiet reply. There was a rustle as she stood and moved back. "But, after all these years, we're finally on the same side. And I'll fight for you as much as I'll fight for anyone here. And I think you'll fight for me, too. We _are _family, Regina. That will never change."

She stared up at the sky as Snow walked away. She lay there for long moments, feeling knots long twisted starting to unravel.

* * *

"You're quite the sight for sore eyes."

She slowly turned her head toward the blonde fairy. She wasn't sure of the last time she had been so pleased to see someone. Between her little chat with Snow and the stream of nervous-looking visitors she'd had throughout the day, she was about ready to crawl off into the woods.

"This would have been the perfect time to pay me back for telling you how terrible you looked in Neverland," she said dryly.

Tinkerbell raised one corner of her mouth in a smirk and conceded the point with a nod.

"Well, considering how much time I've spent trying to help you, why go back on that now? Besides, if you feel as bad as you look, there's no point rubbing salt in the wound."

Regina snorted, wondering when on earth they'd reached the point of banter. It was refreshing. If she admitted the truth to herself, she'd liked the fairy from the moment she'd met her. She had admired her feisty spirit, her positive outlook and her no-nonsense attitude. And while certain aspects of those qualities now grated on her nerves, Regina could almost see something of the girl she herself had once been.

"Well, all quips aside, it appears I owe you thanks." She slowly, painfully pulled herself into a sitting position, holding up a hand when Tinkerbell hurried forward to help.

"Ok," Tinkerbell replied. She waited a moment, but Regina said nothing further. "Was that it?" She looked unimpressed and amused at the same time.

Regina sighed.

"Fine. Thank you, Tinkerbell." Her face softened, but she still held herself stiff and ramrod straight, not quite meeting the fairy's eye. "I'm not in the habit of expressing gratitude. But...I know if you hadn't gone to David and the rest, I might not be here. And Rhiannon and Roland might not be either." She hesitated briefly. "I'm glad you proved me wrong. You're _not_ a terrible fairy."

Tinkerbell raised an eyebrow.

"That last part just about killed you, didn't it?" she grinned.

"Hey," she shot back, "I didn't say you were a great fairy, I just said you weren't terrible."

Tinkerbell produced a small flask and took a sip from it, before handing it to her.

"I heard exactly what I wanted to hear," she replied and sat down on the blankets, watching as Regina took a long swallow from the flask. After all those years in Neverland buried in shame and resentment, she would never have guessed she'd be sitting next to the bitter young queen she had met so long ago. Sharing a drink in friendship, no less. But, for all Regina's darkness, for all her rough edges, Tinkerbell couldn't forget the raw honesty she had expressed in the cave in Neverland. Couldn't forget everything she'd seen and heard since.

Her mind went back to the tattoo she had seen on Robin's arm. How would Regina react this time? It was clear that she and Robin were...something? Civil, polite if nothing else. Which was a lot more than Regina offered most people. She would see that tattoo soon, Tinkerbell knew it was only a matter of time. She hoped the years had made Regina brave enough.

Brave enough to be happy this time.

"Where were you just then?" Regina asked, waving the flask a little for her to take.

Tinkerbell took it and swished around the liquid inside. She raised it in the former queen's direction in a salute.

"Just basking in the glow of your incredible praise," she said, chuckling.

* * *

She sat on the bundled blankets and furs that made up her bed, preparing herself for the taxing task of somehow finding a way to stand up. She needed to move, all of the inner thoughts bombarding her mind were making her antsy.

She sighed and put all of her weight on one arm to push herself up.

"Might I be of assistance, Your Majesty?"

She inwardly groaned. Must the man magically appear whenever she was in need of assistance she didn't want to ask for? She looked up as Robin approached.

"I'm fine," she said curtly, lifting one leg so that she was now in a semi-kneeling position. She tried to breathe evenly, despite the effort she was making to simply stand.

"Very well," Robin replied amiably, seemingly unmoved by her moodiness. "While you attempt to stand, I wish to speak to you."

"Say your piece, then," she grudgingly allowed.

"I owe you everything."

His matter-of-fact statement froze her. She dared not look up at him, instead fixing her gaze on the dirt in front of her, eyes travelling to his shoes but not beyond.

_I owe you everything._

She wished no one to be _obliged_.

"On the contrary..." she began dismissively, but he stepped forward, effectively cutting her off, while forcing her to look up at him.

"Wait. Please," he said placatingly, holding one hand up. Taking her silence as permission, he continued. "The Evil Queen you may have been, but I know you simply as Regina." He smiled crookedly. "And any 'evil' acts you may have committed whilst you have been in our company have come from very different motives than you once had." He stepped closer still. "There are those who cannot forgive and certainly cannot forget what you did back then and perhaps I understand their hearts, their reasons. But, all I know is that those men took my son...and _you_ brought him back at great risk to yourself."

She stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly.

"I offer myself as your friend, Regina," he said, holding out one hand. "I have seen whom I believe to be the woman you truly are. And my son sees you too." He paused. "I know you had a son." She felt a stab of pain at that, scratching at the scar that would probably never heal. "And I know you had to give him up, but whoever he was...well, he must have been special enough to mend the heart of the Evil Queen."

She huffed a laugh.

"Oh, she's still there, dear. Don't be deceived into thinking otherwise."

He shrugged one shoulder.

"Perhaps. But, it doesn't change my mind. And it does not change what I've seen."

He reached down and she stared at his hand.

Regina Mills didn't do friends.

She'd never done friends. Not as a child, not as a young woman and certainly not in the years that had come after that. But, now it appeared she was gathering a collection of them. And it hadn't even been her intention.

It hadn't been her intention to become a mother when she'd cast the curse. Until she'd realised revenge didn't fully satisfy her heart. But, Henry had. Nor had it been her intention to ever let Emma Swan anywhere near her family. Until she'd realised that the woman was meant to be _her_ saviour too, if only to give Henry the happy life she had ached for him to have. And it certainly hadn't been her intention to endear herself to those gathered here with her. She had been content in her misery, in surrounding herself in memories of a son she would never see again, in wallowing in her own private pit of despair. Until she found herself saving people (saving Snow White!), defending them, putting herself at risk for them.

No, none of these had been her intention. Frankly, she didn't know what her intentions were anymore. It felt like a good thing to do, the brave thing to do, to reach out and take the man's offered hand.

In her mind's eye, Henry's beautiful face broke into a smile. And the dark place within her felt so bitter and so sweet all at once.

She lifted her hand towards Robin's and grasped his fingers. He moved to get a better grip and then pulled, helping her to her feet. She swayed for a moment and his hand continued to hold hers as they stood close together. He moved his other hand under her elbow for a little extra support.

Robin's blue eyes saw right into hers.

"I can't actually thank you enough," Robin whispered, his face a study in relieved anguish. "If Roland had…"

He shook his head and unthinkingly pulled her hand up to his lips.

She felt the exact moment when he pressed his dry lips to her skin.

"You are wild," he whispered. "Like the horses that run the plains. I have never seen someone defend so fiercely. I hope you protect all your friends in such a manner."

She gently pulled her hand back and he released it, as if aware of the shifting boundaries.

"Pray you never have to find out, Robin Hood."

Her lips curved into the barest of smiles, before she turned and walked away, weaving in and out of the trees.

* * *

"Giddy-up. Giddy-up."

The words were uttered in a whisper, not meant to awaken her. She cracked one eye open and one corner of her mouth turned up as she caught sight of Roland prancing the wooden horse figure along the ground near her bed.

"I was wondering when you would come to visit me," she said softly, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up instantly, his face breaking into a beaming smile that was almost blinding.

"Regina!"

He was at her side in an instant, pulling at her arm to get her to sit up.

"Not so fast," she resisted. "I'm a bit sore."

He nodded, wide-eyed, putting both of his thin arms under one of her shoulders and using the strength of his little body to help her into a sitting position. The moment she had arranged herself more comfortably, he looked at her with raised eyebrows. She extended her hands towards him and drew him closer.

"Are you alright, Regina?" he asked, examining her with the earnestness of a four-year-old.

She smiled at him.

"I am, Roland. And now you've come to visit me, I'm even better."

He looked like he wanted to burst with happiness and it made her heart clench to see it. He looked down at the wooden horse clutched in his hand.

"Papa told me you dropped this," he said, thrusting it at her. "When you saved me from the bad people."

She ran a finger over the rough wood and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"Why don't you keep it for me? You can play with it and it will stop me from losing it again. I trust you will take care of it?"

She hid a smile as he nodded seriously, closing his fingers around it to seal the solemn promise. He shifted closer, leaning against her.

"Regina, will the bad people come back?"

She put an arm around him and briefly rested her chin on his head. She couldn't lie and the truth was far too frightening. That the Witch hadn't even shown herself yet. That the soldiers who had already come after them certainly wouldn't be the last. That there were all sorts of things lurking in the dark when he closed his eyes to sleep.

"You know that we'll protect you, don't you Roland? Everyone here will make sure you're safe." She gave him a little squeeze.

He leaned back and looked up at her.

"I'll protect you too, Regina. You need someone to look after you. That's me."

She bit her lip.

_And others too, apparently._

She felt the pieces within her shift again. Making way for something new.

"Thank you, Roland," she whispered. "You're a good friend."

He nodded and ran the horse up her arm.

"Giddy-up. Giddy-up."

**A/N I know lots of people like a more complete ending (ie Regina and Robin fall into each other's arms, Regina and Snow forgive each other etc), but none of the characters are ready yet. This story was never about that level of closure. It was more about opening Regina to possibilities, while trying to maintain the conflict within her complex character. I reserve the right to write a sequel/continuation at some point, but I would rather wait and see what actually (if anything) happens between Regina and Robin. I would love our complicated Queen to have a happy ending, whatever it might look like :)**


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